The Lucky One
by Eldalie
Summary: Battlestar Helenia escaped the attack on the colonies along with a fleet of four civilian ships. Now, a very fortunate jump brings them face to face with Battlestar Galactica, and Lee meets again someone he did not expect.
1. Prologue A stroke of the fingers

_Some billions__ of people on twelve planets. Even for the best organized sneak attack ever, only 50,000 survivors is a low count, is it? I've always thought we humans are a pretty resourceful, resilient kind. Perhaps not the lovelier, but resilient all the same. So here goes the story of the third party of colonials who made it…joining the Galactica and her fleet at the worse possible moment: right after the dreadful experience of the Algae Planet, with Baltar just back for trial and loads of unfinished business suspended midair. It goes without saying: my protagonist's surname, as you'll find out soon enough, is no coincidence. _

_Said now and for all: I'm just relaxing and playing with someone else's very good idea. Thanks for creating BSG, people of Sci-Fi. And for not getting mad at us for messing around a bit with it . ;-) _

_P.S. You like it, you review it. It's up to you readers if I'll keep posting or not._

Prologue. A stroke of the fingers.

Captain Alia Roslin had never considered herself fortunate. And since the Colonies had been bombed and occupied, she had come to the conclusion that Luck, taken for all in all, rather disliked her whole kind. So when Executive Officer Leera Knight asked her the coordinates for the jump, she did not consider, not even imagined, that casual inspiration could eventually turn into something more than another, empty system: without even looking, her eyes fixed on the DRADIS, she brushed lightly with her fingers the keyboard she was offered and then tiredly returned her hand on the chart table.

"Sir…" prompted Leera, using the deferential, formal tone she used when she felt she had been misunderstood. Alia did not answer her, apparently still absorbed in scanning the empty screens. But Knight was not so easily deceived.

"We should calculate."

"Last time we calculated we nearly landed into a sun."

"But this way…"

"You have the coordinates, XO."

"Yes, sir."

Leera turned, gave the orders. The speakers cawed, their usual, cacophonic complaint before agreeing to work. _All crew, prepare to jump…_

This time, Alia did not even steady herself. Two years of this life had thought her to stand all this without a flinch. Her, and the whole fleet.

_Two passenger ships, one refinery, one supply ship. One Battlestar. _

As around her silent, efficient officers got ready to jump, she wished to stop her list here. But she could not.

_Fifty one__ Raptors. Sixty five Vipers. Ninety seven pilots._

Numbers. After two years, all they had got. All they had left. And then. As the familiar, alienating twitch in the stomach alerted her that it was happening again, as her head at the same time spinned and sunk without moving an inch, the number she dreaded most of all surfaced.

The number that was scribbled in an apparently careless, in truth obsessive manner on the blackboard behind the desk in the commander's office. A desk she'd never occupied. She went there only to update the number. So she knew it by heart. It was engraved in her skin.

_Four thousand. _

As it often happened, the jump seemed to produce an alteration, an almost imperceptible shifting in one's visual perspective.

_Three hundred. _

Alia blinked. All over, and soon. The only problem was, thoughts as well travel FTL speed.

_Fifty. _

A dilatation, and then a contraption too quick to be registered. A faint sense of unease in her muscles.

_Two. _

Steadying, dilating, officers checking the DRADIS. Old calculators straining to get back in touch with the new reality surrounding them.

_Four thousand, three hundred and fifty two. _

A number. All that remained of the human race.

"We have some strange data, Captain."

"Let me see."

The sheet was handed over quickly. Alia's eyes flicked through it.

"It can't be."

"It seems so. A nova activating, clearly. We must jump back."

"Impossible. They'll have picked up the scent by now."

"We can't stay here. And jumping blind…"

"We could end up inside the maelstrom. It's clear enough. Now what, XO?" "Connor!"

Lieutenant Leonard Connor stepped down in the bridge, a scrap of paper in his hands. Calculations in his spiky, characteristic handwriting seemed to scuttle sideways, towards the edges of the paper.

"I would need more precise information, captain."

"We can't connect. You know that, Connor."

"Then I can't be a hundred percent sure. These limits…"

The voice of com officer Aaro Noral came shrill, piercing in their ears.

"The concentration of hydrogen is spiking up, captain. If we wait another hour we'll jump anyway!"

Alia looked at Connor. He was frowning, his worn face lost in his thoughts. The best at this. And not for the first time in the last two years, Alia thought that without a network, a mind like Leonard's had was invaluable.

He raised his eyes. He was smiling.

"There's a way out."

"Then, make it quick."

"We travel sub-luminal speed. Towards the nova."

"Are you…?"

"Insane? No. We use its energy to jump away. Like a wave drifting us directly into next stellar system. The FTL drives will follow the direction, no risk of being dragged back. Even if it collapses."

Alia's face bore no emotion. Dead, as in the last two years it had been. She turned.

"Leera?"

"Let's do it."

Alia nodded, briefly.

"Subluminal speed. Contact the civilians, Mr Noral."

It was that moment that she liked most. The one moment that still managed to make her feel truly alive. That moment, when she'd dropped an order and, once again, their lives were at stake. Everyone ran, everyone was cool and precise. Everyone put all they had into that one jump, that one fight. It mattered not what the ending was. Life was never so bright as in moments like this. When it tottered on the edge of blackness on the point of fall. Leonard smiled.

"I'm back to my place, captain."

His short, blonde hair was spikier than usual today, Alia noticed. He appeared older than his forty years. But then she must ask herself what she, what Leera looked like.

_We're wrecks. This flight has lasted for too long. _

Unconsciously, she'd gone back to the chart table. Silently, Leera was at her side.

"We'll make it, captain."

"It's no use, XO."

She felt it, hidden under the table, the quick touch of her friend's hand on hers.

_That's no use, either._

"The nova is in sight, captain!"

"Circumnavigate it!"

"Still five minutes to go!"

"Prepare to jump!"

It exploded, all of a sudden on the screens connected with the external cameras. A fan of gold and yellow, red and blue. A flower blossoming with violent beauty in the middle of the sky.

"Captain!"

"Mr Rania."

"There's something here, on the DRADIS. A darker mass…it seems…" Leonard's voice broke in, streaked with urgency.

"The winds are increasing! We must jump, now!"

"Calculate!"

"Already done. Just one way out."

"Follow it."

That strange quietness in her voice. The crew knew it well. That voice, and what it meant. That from now on, they were in the hands of the gods. "_Archer Apollo who art in the sun…_"

The chanting, deep voice of petty officer Lana. She prayed with each jump, with each attack. She had started with the very first, last moment dart from Tauron up to this collapsing world. But Alia was not listening to her.

Another twist in her stomach, and that darker mass disappearing, at the edge of the DRADIS. But she was not watching that, either. For the few seconds that remained before the jump, she kept on looking at the external screens. Arrows of blood, tides of blue fire filled them. A beauty too stark to be endured for long.

_You would have liked it, Lee. _

They jumped.


	2. Chapter 1: Nemesis

_Thanks for the reviews. :) _

Chapter 1

Nemesis

_One, two, three, four._

With the light, graceful swish of the landing, the civilian ships materialized on the screens, red dots on the DRADIS. In a few seconds they were due to report. The first call came through and Noral bent on the radio. Leera smiled.

"See? Done it again."

Alia's face felt numb, but her lips stretched all the same. A monkey aping the example of others.

"Done it again."

The XO, satisfied, departed, the smile still on her mouth, her pace light, almost bouncing. She had still, it seemed, energy stored somewhere inside her. Perhaps near the place where her lost husband had been locked up.

_Memories__ made of paper and hung upon a wall._

Alia closed her eyes, but the photo she'd pinned herself next to Leera's Roy's was neat in her memory as if it were in front of her. A dark-haired, strongly built man, wearing a pilot's uniform. He was not smiling, but he appeared proud. His eyes had the clear, piercing quality of seawater in a deep bay.

_Apollo._

She'd not been to the wall for so long now. The other photographs had been sealed in a box, the box wrapped in the one other thing that remained to her. A shirt forgotten after a long night. A bundle at the back of her locker. Pain now was a habit, a cloak she was used to wear. A second skin glued and stitched to her own.

Connor's approach did not start her.

"Near escape, captain."

"Your merit as always Lt. May I hope you'll accept a medal this once?"

Connor smiled, and his face appeared ten years younger.

"No, captain. You know that bronze clashes horribly with my hair."

The faintest chuckle made her throat tremble.

_If only good friends were enough to fill this._

Noral raised his head from the radio, his features creased.

"Captain, you really should hear this."

Alia exchanged a quick glance with Connor before going. He knew no more than her.

"This should be a stable system." His voice followed her as she stretched her hand for the receiver.

"Here the captain. Speak."

"Captain, it's Meyer, from the _Argonaut._ We have the strangest movements on the edges of our DRADIS…"

"How far?"

"I'll give you the exact position."

"What does it look like?"

"They keep appearing and disappearing, I think they haven't sighted us yet. We haven't had a chance to have a clear view, but they don't look like the usual toasters."

"_Argonaut, _come back immediately. Calculate the position and communicate it. Mr Noral, all civilian ships, herd. XO, ready for action!"

She dropped the receiver. Two strides brought her back to the chart table. Connor hadn't moved.

"Enemy contact?"

"Still don't know."

"Vipers arming, sir."

"Approach the unknown objects remaining out of their reach. Birds ready, but no flight till I say so."

"By your leave."

The sudden acceleration of the ship reverberated on a subtle wave, an imperceptible disturbance on the console. Alia leant on the table, her eyes on the screens.

"Darn toasters."

Connor was still there.

"We aren't sure it's them."

"Meteors or other space junk would not be able to move so quickly in and out of the DRADIS."

"They can't have picked the trail so soon."

Connor shrugged.

"Clever thingies, the toasters."

Leera was back.

"Ninety seconds to eye contact. We must have appeared on their instruments…"

"Wait."

The little dots on the screen had multiplied. Moving quickly, like alarmed bees. But they were not Cylon raiders.

"XO."

"Captain, we must…"

"XO!"

Leera turned towards the DRADIS. Behind them, the group of the fleet. But in front of them, a sight so unfamiliar and yet so dear it was like a pang and spoonful of honey at the same time. Connor was the first to speak.

"My gods…"

Alia's face was blank as she turned.

"Mr Noral, open radio communication. Colonial signals towards the unknown objects."

"Yes, sir."

"Alia…" Leera's voice was so subtle it sounded like it was about to break.

"We don't know yet."

Silenced, the XO stood beside her commander, her hands abandoned along her hips. Connor did not feel like joking. And the whole bridge listened, quietly, to the screeches filtering through Noral's headphones.

_It can't…it could…_

Alia's thoughts an unbroken, contorted line. Her heart hammered against the cage of her ribs. But her eyes were ice, and her face did not move nor change when Noral raised his head, his eyes sparkling.

"They're answering, sir."

"Call them for me, Mr Noral."

Her blood burnt, but she could not, she would not believe it. Not yet. Not till she heard, for the first time in two years outside those five last ships, the sound of a human voice.

"Communication open. Ready to transmit."

_It's so strange. My hand around this receiver does not even tremble._

"Here Captain Alia Roslin, Battlestar _Helenia. _Is any colonial spacecraft listening?"

It was a moment. A long moment, and the lamentation of ions from the loudspeakers Noral had turned on.

_Please…_

"Here Battlestar _Helenia. _Colonials, answer!"

The electric sound was distorted, dirty. Nails on a blackboard, when blackboards still existed outside the commander's office. And then the noise took shape.

"Battlestar _Helenia, _we are receiving you. Here's Battlestar _Galactica _listening."

The silence inside the triumph is the best silence of all. As her crew erupted in cheers full of a ferocious, untroubled joy, as Mr Noral bent his head on the console and started quietly to cry, as petty officer Lana sobbed brokenly the lines of her favourite hymn, Alia noticed that her vision was blurring, that the screens of the DRADIS appeared distant, strangely unfocused, but that notwithstanding that she could see them filling, crowded with new and new dots, and all dots familiar, all dots known. All dots a vessel bearing human beings. The raucous voice, the unhoped-for voice from outer space, flowed from the speakers.

"Battlestar _Helenia_, can you hear me?"

Before Alia could bring the receiver to her mouth again, before she could understand what it was that was making her cheeks cold and wet, or what was there in that voice that touched chords in her heart she had forgot existed, with a new urgency the voice asked:

"Nemesis, are you still there?"

_The old man…_

The tears stayed out of her voice. Alia managed at least that.

"Yes, Husker. We're still here."


	3. Chapter 2: Guard of honour

_Keep reviewing like that, guys. ;)_

Chapter 2

Guard of honour

"Come onboard immediately, Nemesis. I expect a full report in an hour."

"By your leave, sir."

How different can words be from the voice that utters them. Apparently as cold as ice, a normal call of duty. In truth, the renewal of hopes long since lost.

"I hope you have at least one Raptor functioning on that shiny trick."

Alia smiled.

"Actually we have fifty, commander."

"Show some respect when you're speaking to your admiral, captain."

"Yes, sir."

Through space and radio interferences she could see the smile on the lips of old William Adama, and the thought of him in an admiral's stripes was too absurd not to smile at it.

_To think that it was his retirement's day._

Suddenly, the husky voice turned from formal to matter-of-factly, with that brusque aftertaste that had always been Adama's way of showing affection.

"Three Vipers are taking off to escort you onboard, Nemesis. Put on your best uniform for your welcome back in the colonial fleet. And that's an order."

"Aye-aye, sir."

Alia put down the receiver, nodding to Noral to turn the speakers off. But once more, Adama's gravelled baritone scratched their ears:

"And pack your slippers, captain. Your report could last for a long time."

The _Galactica _turned down the conversation. The loud wail of the interferences filled up the bridge once more.

Alia met Leera's eyes, and they were incredulous.

"The old man has gone out of his head, captain. Talking of slippers on the speakers for everyone to hear."

She shook her head patiently. Sideways, her eyes peered at her friend from under her fringe.

Alia said nothing, shaking her head herself, quicker and quicker till she started laughing, at first uncertainly, than louder and louder till she grasped Leera's shoulder for support.

"The old man has made it."

"Yes, he has."

"And he's brought a whole frakking fleet with him."

"Indeed."

"And he's been made admiral in the process."

"That's likely."

Tears, she knew no more whether of merriment or commotion, gathered again in her eyes, overflowing in long streaks. Her breath was short, but anxiety had nothing to do with it.

"I'm laughing, am I?"

"Yes. And it's been too long."

Leera helped her stand.

"You've even undone your braid."

"To hell with the braid."

In one, sharp gesture, she grasped the band holding her hair tidy and pulled it away. She shook her head, a disordered mass of locks flowing on her shoulders.

"Call Marien. Tell her we leave in ten minutes."

"Yes, sir."

Leera turned to go, but Alia retained her from the wrist.

"And pack me a bag. I'm sleeping out tonight. You're in charge, XO."

Smiling, Leera left, and Alia turned to face the CIC. Too many times the faces staring at her from the consoles, from the computers had been tired, worn, marked by fatigue and lack of sleep.

_Not now. Now they shine of the same light._

There was not much to say. Only a few words. Five, to be precise. Alia inspired deeply, feeling her blood, her veins truly hers. Her lungs breathing freely. Her shoulders, relaxed. She looked around the bridge. And then she spoke.

"We're not alone anymore."

The cheers exploded loud, louder than before, as if joy was a luxury to be enjoyed only with the captain's leave, because if Alia, Alia the pessimist, Alia the never smiling, said it, then it was true. The toasters themselves could not change that.

Alia lowered her eyes, her pupils resting on the luminous surface of the chart table. She brushed it lightly with the palm of her hand. The light reflected on the thin silver band around her finger. She smiled at it, a sad smile.

_If only you were__ here, Lee._

She raised her eyes. Behind his console, Connor was standing, his eyes on her. He was smiling – without mockery, without irony. Truly smiling. Slowly, she saw him perform, perhaps for the first time, a formal gesture he usually liked to laugh at. He saluted her. And when she, the same slowness in her hand, saluted him back, he said aloud, he shouted in the middle of that joyous confusion:

"For our captain – Hip hip!"

"Hooray!"

"Hip hip!"

"Hooray!"

"Hip hip!"

"Hooray!"

Twenty or more people on that bridge. One throat. Laughing, crying, Alia strode through the CIC and past the consoles. She embraced Connor, tight. People cheered even more.

"Just for today, Lt," she whispered to his ear, "Just for today."

"Aye-aye, captain."

She detached herself from him, feeling her cheeks flushed, her heart beating fast. She spoke once again to her crew.

"I'm boarding _Galactica. _To all of you, to each one of you, my respect. Because we've come here together such a long way."

Applause greeted her leaving the CIC. And only then did Noral turn down the internal speakers.

_-------------------------------------------------_

_She really packed me a bag._

Alia closed the door to her cabin behind her. On the bunk, a travelling bag orderly packed and zipped already. She undid the zip a bit. On top of all, the slippers she hadn't used in years.

_Crazy Leera._

But she was smiling.

She undid her jacket, slipped out of her trousers.

_Put on your best uniform, captain._

As if the old man had known where she kept it.

She faced the locker, briefly, as if uncertain whether to open it or not. But seconds ticked away quickly on her alarm clock and there was a Raptor waiting for her on deck. She had to go. The uniform, neatly folded, lay on top of the white bundle, back behind her boots and the voluminous package of documents she preferred to keep there. She took the clothes she needed; about to close the locker already, she hesitated and knelt down. Between her fingers the fabric of the shirt had been made rigid by time.

_Lee._

She still deluded herself the shirt could retain, somewhere in its heart of fibers, his smell.

_Too much time. Too much death._

She put the shirt down. She raised and dressed. Looking at the mirror, one hand rose automatically to pull up her hair; but then she let it stay loose. She slammed the locker closed. When she caught her image in the mirror again, there was the faintest trace of a smile on her lips.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Raptor ready for flight, captain."

"Very well, Marien. We can go."

Her bag in hand, she climbed the ramp and sat down. Turning, she could see Leera standing on deck.

"Go take care of my ship, XO. I want to find her whole when I come back."

Without answering, Leera saluted and stepped back. The side hatch was closed and the Raptor brought to the launch pad.

"Get ready for flight, captain."

Alia looked at Lieutenant Marien, her hair pulled back tight, her face serious as she double-checked the instruments. As if it was just another normal, routine reconnaissance flight.

"You can show it if you're happy, Lieutenant."

Marien did not answer. But she did smile.

"Launching out when you will, captain."

The metallic voice of the chief of the deck on the radio.

"Now, if you please, Mr Kreutzer."

As she felt the pressure increase, the catch release, Alia lay back against her seat.

_Just wondering what greenhorns Husker will have sent to escort us._

"Left."

The quick passage through the tunnel, then, outer space. That indefinite feeling of lightness, of unconquered possibility just before the drives switched on. The blue flame of the propellers followed them like a strange monster.

"I can see the Vipers."

"Me, too."

They were marshalled neatly in a row, patiently waiting for them at safety distance from the black shape of the Battlestar.

"Can you see the names on the sides?"

"No – they're too far, captain."

_How silly of me. How unforgivably silly._

The Vipers did not wait for them to draw closer – the middle one, clearly the leader, pulled up and then turned before leading the way full speed towards the confused mass of the fleet.

"A bold pilot."

"A good manoeuvrer, too."

The other two, despite starting off themselves as quick as their drives would allow, let themselves be caught up soon. They placed themselves one on each side of the Raptor, as a real escort would do. All around them, behind the windows, Alia could see the sky stretch black in all directions. The lights too strong put out the stars.

"Open radio communication, Marien."

"Yes sir."

She took the receiver.

"Hello pilots," she said, her voice strong and sure, even light, "Nemesis speaking. With whom do I have the honour of flying?"

"Racetrack!" A female, thrilled voice from the left.

"Hotdog!" A male voice this time, low with throaty growls.

Marien and Alia exchanged a glance – _Hotdog. _The poor guy must have guts to scream it out like that.

"Very well gentlemen," said the captain in the receiver, "And what about your bold, if elusive leader?"

"No gentleman up here Nemesis, never been one."

Surprised, Alia turned to look out of the window, and sure enough there it was, the third Viper come out of somewhere flying close to their own rooftop.

It pulled up, than turned around, before dashing off sideways and then stopping upside down, hovering in the hair just a few metrons from them.

"Who's there?"

_This voice…_

"How many people do you know who fly like this, you unbelieving bitch?"

"STARBUCK!"

Alia held the receiver so close it scratched her teeth.

"Kara – you bastard, you lucky, you fortunate…"

"I love you too Alia, darling."

Chuckles into the radio. Soft interferences. Background noise.

"I told the old man I had to be the one to fetch you. They've put on a great welcome for you back on _Galactica_."

"What about Boomer, what about Helo? How many –"

The sudden silence fell like ice; an iron curtain through the air. When she spoke again, Kara's voice was firm.

"Loads of things have been happening lately, Alia, but don't worry, they're all right. We'll update you like a toaster."

Again the chuckles.

_She never changes._

"Come on now. They're waiting for us. Home-bound, birds."

She pulled hard on the accelerator, Kara. But they obeyed her as she started off like a sparkle, a fountain of stars.

_Rule number one: follow the leader. She's made it. She always does. _

Off they went. Towards the open runway of _Galactica. _


	4. Chapter 3: Colonials

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Because a lo__t of people have been asking this: class and technical details about _Helenia_ will be revealed in next chapter, as Nemesis reports to Adama. They are quite important to the plot. :-) _

Chapter 3

Colonials

The open mouth of the runway drew closer and closer, the bulk of the Battlestar itself growing till it filled the space beyond the windows. Kara's Viper flew in and then the other two sped up and followed it, while Lieutenant Marien dived more slowly, but gracefully. Alia looked up. Right above them, as close to _Galactica _as safety would allow, the fish-like silhouette of a ship Alia had thought she'd never see again.

_The Colonial One? Is Adar saved then?_

They touched the metal surface of the runway, sparkles flying from the brakes, and they waited as the hatches closed. Suddenly impatient, Alia found her fingers closing into a fist as Marien expertly drove them through to the yellow light of the deck.

_Such a long time since last I saw the old man._

William 'Husker' Adama had shared with his son Apollo his blue eyes. Two years and she'd have to look into them again.

_But this is going to be a happy day._

"Hatch open, captain."

Marien's cool voice brought her back and she stood up, a smile automatically forming on her lips as she saw the man waiting on the other side as the hatch slid open.

"Chief!"

The orange-clad crew on deck erupted into applause as she jumped down the Viper on deck; faces from the old days, faces she'd never seen lit by the same joy. Chief Tyrol sprang to attention.

"Captain Nemesis, sir. So glad you made it."

Alia smiled.

"I always make it, Chief. You should know that."

"Leave a bit of her to me, will you?"

Kara's familiar voice as, helmet under her arm, she approached. At first Alia thought she'd not changed a bit, that she was the same girl she'd left two weeks prior to the attack; but it was just before she reached her that she noticed. That her pace was not quite as springy, not quite as bold as it used to be, that on her soft-featured, sweet face – the strangest face for the warrior she was – time had engraved deep lines, scars of pain on both sides of her mouth.

_But then I wonder how changed I am._

"You bitch, Nemesis. You bitch."

Kara looked her up and down, one step from her for a long moment before her lips curved into a smile that erased the years as she hugged her tight, her arms like iron wishing to smash her ribcage.

"You were always stronger than me, were you, Starbuck?"

"Always, Nemesis baby. Always."

They detached. Kara turned, nodding to the Viper pilots standing behind to come closer. As she did so, one of her still gloved hands rested on Alia's wrist.

_As if time hadn't passed, my friend._

"Alia, meet two of the babies I've nursed from little nuggets to somewhat decent Viper pilots. That's Racetrack..."

A lean, pretty girl with short brown hair saluted. The young man beside her saluted as well.

"…while this is Hotdog. You want to watch out for this one. He quite never grasped the fact I'm in charge and he's not."

"Your favourite, is he?"

"Quite."

The crooked smile on Hotdog's face told Alia he knew that.

"Let's get going then." Kara pulled off her gloves and handed the helmet to a crewman. "The old man will kill me if I hold you back a minute more."

"Two years and a half, almost, since last time I walked this deck."

Alia led the way with Starbuck, the other three in their trail.

"Better late than ever, N."

_Y__our dry aptitude towards enthusiastic greetings hasn't changed a bit, K._

But as she thought this, Alia was smiling.

"I saw the Colonial One before we landed. Was Adar saved?"

Kara stopped in her tracks and looked at her as if she could not quite understand what she said. Then, inexplicably, she started laughing.

"I can't believe I forgot! That's going to be the greatest surprise of all, my friend."

She resumed walking; but she turned to her again, her eyes pensive.

"Or maybe not."

_I so wish you could be clearer sometimes, Starbuck._

But they were there, eventually; just outside the great hall of _Galactica, _marines on the door saluting as they approached.

"You ready?"

Alia nodded. Kara, theatrical as ever, boldly led the way through the door.

-----------------------------------------

_Such a deafening noise._

Two wings of a mixed crowd of pilots, crewmen, various technical personnel and some civilians roared as Alia passed among them. Their faces were contorted in a happiness close to the savage one of her own crew.

_The most beautiful noise in the world._

Adama, standing upright at the end of the aisle between the two wings, did not even smile as he watched her approach. But she knew he was glad as well. On the two sides of him stood two persons she could not see well at first, hidden as they were by more guards, more people. Only when she stepped up the three steps leading to the platform did she recognize them. It was only a startled joy that seized her veins when she saw her Aunt Laura; but she thought she had no more blood when she saw the uniformed man on Adama's left side.

_Lee…_

If it is possible to go deadly white while your cheeks turn red, then Alia Roslin was doing that; and if such a phenomenon exists, it must not be that rare, as Lee Adama was doing the same. Alia might have frozen midstep where she was, he might have been incapable to move from his composure; but Husker, now Admiral Adama, spoke and pulled them away from the timeless place they had sunk in.

"Welcome aboard, Captain Nemesis."

"Thank you, Admiral."

"I believe you already know President Roslin."

"Quite a career you made, aunt."

Smiles; but her heart was not moving.

_Lee…_

"And of course Major Apollo and you were old friends."

_Friends. So blind you can be at times, old man._

She allowed herself to look at him again; to look at his face, the face she knew as much as her own, the face whose beauty had haunted her dreams since that wretched day, and she found it as speechless, as blank as she felt her features to be now. It was Husker who saved them again.

"I think the crew would appreciate it if you said a few words to them, Captain."

"Of course."

There was a microphone somewhere on the platform, Alia thought vaguely, and only when she almost stumbled into the wooden desk holding it she became aware that it was right by her side. No one noticed her hesitation; no one, but the man whose eyes hadn't left her since she'd come in. Her fingers numb, she tried to settle the flexible base of the microphone. A hand firmer than hers did it for her.

"Thank you, Apollo."

She'd whispered it, barely; but she knew he'd heard her. She felt her skin burning, her hands devoured by the desire to grasp that strong, lean fingers closed around that microphone, the desire to kiss them until her lips went numb. But they were soldiers, after all; they knew there were duties to perform first. He straightened; she leant on the now perfectly balanced microphone, addressing the nameless, faceless people in front of her.

"Crew of _Galactica._"

They immediately hushed down.

_Don't look at me, Lee, don't do that. Now I must be strong. Now I must act as if I was not trembling. _

"My name is Alia Roslin, 'Nemesis' since the day I've earned my wings. The disaster of Caprica left me, and a small fleet, stranded. We've come a long way to find you, a long way believing we were the last. Now I know the road was not in vain. Because we've found you."

_Silence is so thick._

"The gods guided our steps, as they guided yours. The Cylons thought they'd kill us, thought they could undo us like a wrong creation. But they could not. Because we are the children of the gods, and eternity is our legacy. While they are just sick toasters whose circuits went blackout."

_There, it is so strange, how words come naturally now. As if I'd always known I'd stand here one day._

"They destroyed our homes, they took away our lives, they killed, often exterminated, our families. But they can't annihilate us, because we are too strong. They wanted to destroy us, because they envy us. Because what they wish, above all they wish, is to be human like us. But they can't. And that's why we'll win, because till there is one human standing, the Cylons can't deceive themselves into believing that they are the chosen ones. And let me tell you this: there will _always _be one human standing against the frakking machines. Because we may be beaten, we may be on the run, but what they can't take away from us, what they can't imitate, is the soul the gods gave us, and no microchip can ever fake."

You could have heard a sheet of paper falling, so deep the silence among the crowd. And all the love her heart was restraining became a proud battle cry for her people.

"We made the Cylons, and we did wrong. We've paid for it, with blood and flesh and bone. But as we did them, we'll undo them. Till even the memory of the horrible things born from our pride and our folly is forever lost."

There was a pause, and Alia reclined her head, not much, as a horse would do before springing into a bounce. Her hands grasped firmly the edges of the wooden desk.

"We must be like fortresses of fire, like hawks in the night. We'll strike and be without mercy, because there is no mercy for a heap of wires and synthetic flesh. Because they have taken away from us much more than we can ever take from their pathetic, faked lives; but until you'll have memories to remember what you've lost and strength and courage to fight to gain it back, they can't win. And in your core know what I know now, watching you: that none that is taken away from us is forever lost."

_Not you, Lee. Not you._

Her head had sunk lower, the light from above cast deep shadows upon herr face. And the hall vibrated as a single string.

"So say we all." Lee's voice, barely a whisper. "So say we all."

Alia thought no one had been able to hear him; no one. But then a throaty voice, a male voice from the first row answered: "So say we all."

She raised her eyes, and Hotdog was looking at her, and his crooked smile betrayed an understanding deeper that she might have wished for. Then it was Kara's turn.

"So say we all."

And then it was Roslin, it was the old man; it was everyone, to the last row and the marines standing beside the door. Because that day what remained of mankind was one body and one soul.

"So say we all."

Alia could not hear Adama dismiss the assembly; and the last, deafening applause was a confused roar in her ears. All she knew, was that the old man was telling her to follow him and the president to report; and her feet moved, mechanically, after them.

But her eyes flashed back, and found Lee's, and with a pang so strong she thought her whole being would break in two she became aware it was the first time she looked at them directly.

_Wait for me. _

After so much time, a promise to come back she knew she could keep. And as she went away, perhaps, the glistening of gold around his finger was only a sparkle at the edges of her eyes' reach.


	5. Chapter 4: Report

_Hi there. Thanks, as always, to anyone who reviewed. __**Author's note for the future**__: this is an AU fic. It deals with a BSG universe that is the one we all love, where characters stay in character and most of the events that took place up to the Algae Planet did take place – but there are some tiny changes I may have to do, liberties I may have to take in order to make my story work. I write with the Battlestar Wiki portal open on the screen and my faithful stack of DVDs near at hand, so believe me, when I differ from canon, it's for good reason. :-) But let us delay no further. Loads of guys anxious to know about Battlestar _Helenia, _weren't they? P.S. And loads of guys anxious to know about Athena. Good question. It was supposed to fit in here, but eventually it didn't. Though don't worry. They'll tell Alia. And then you'll see. ;)_

Chapter Four

Report

One of the strangest qualities of humankind, one of those Cylons never quite wished to include in their programs, is the stunning ability of humans to deceive themselves. The stunning ability of their minds to dodge, avoid, circumnavigate or directly remove facts and thoughts unpleasant to them. The human mind can be the best nurse of all: it seems to know its limits perfectly well. What it can't stand, it runs away from.

Thus a Cylon would not be surprised to discover that when Adama closed the door of his private office behind them, in Alia's mind Lee remained as a general background, the pleasant side-effect of a shot of her favourite drug; and the metal band around his finger was quite forgotten. She was a soldier. And she had a report to make.

Laura Roslin sat down on the sofa and smiled.

"I believed I'd never see you again."

"So did I."

Perhaps they should have kissed; or at least, embraced. They were aunt and niece, after all. They had loved each other, and they still did. But the admiral lingered around the door, and his presence was not one to be forgotten.

"I'll be happy to leave you alone later, President. I'm sure you have many things to say."

"Many. But I'm as anxious as you to know how this girl managed on her own."

She smiled, Roslin; a smile Alia recognized.

_As if I'd just taken a good mark in high school. Aunt, aunt. President, you?_

"If you wish for something, Nemesis, I'll offer you what we have. And do sit down."

"Thank you, sir. I'd rather stand."

Adama smiled soberly. "There was a reason why you were promoted captain first of them all."

"Thank you, sir."

_O__ld man, just ask what you want to know and let me go._

Adama leant forward, his eyes eager, bright behind his glasses.

"Very well then. How did it happen?"

_Not a story you'll like to hear, I'm afraid._

"You knew of course, sir, about the Nebula project."

"The new class of warships? Admiral Moore was quite particular about it. One of his projects."

"A secret one. Officially, just another, more modern kind of ship. Bigger, faster, stronger, capable of carrying and arming more Vipers, more Raptors, more warheads than usual. But the real novelty about Nebula-class Battlestars would be the DRADIS. A new technology, capable not only of a range of scanning more powerful and wider than the usual one, but also able to see through the most common camouflage and individuate enemy contact under extremely unfavourable circumstances. And furthermore, the new DRADIS would be able, as it scanned the space on its range, to send electric impulses powerful enough to deactivate electronic devices similar to it – radar, sonar, outdated DRADIS. It would be able to damage beyond repair external cameras. In short, the new DRADIS Moore's team was working on had been projected to blind enemy ships."

"A powerful weapon."

"A weapon for a war. When I was promoted captain and left _Galactica _– "

There was a frown on Adama's face, as if he was being forced to remember things he'd rather leave behind.

" – I was first appointed as CAG on Colonel Christensen's _Valhalla, _a Mercury-class ship."

"I knew about that. Christensen had only good words for you."

_Christensen died a bad death, old man. Better not to think about it._

"_Valhalla _was damaged during a patrol along the Armistice Line. We were fully invested by unpredicted solar activity. A storm that left us barely able to reach Aerilon and whose damages grounded the ship for months. The crew was ordered into quarters until the Battlestar was repaired. It was then that Admiral Moore contacted Christensen for a mission to be kept 'strictly confidential'."

_There. That look in Aunt Laura's eyes. She's beginning to smell the burnt. As I did two years ago, but could do nothing about._

"Colonel Christensen was to bring us out on patrol around Tauron, where the subversive activities had recently increased. We would board a new Battlestar, a prototype. It was actually to be a test mission. We would be the ones verifying whether or not the new DRADIS model worked. _Helenia _had been the first on which it had been mounted. The researches, though, where late on schedule: the software, the central network connecting and coordinating Vipers and Raptors wireless had not yet been fully developed, so in order to make the ship able to fly they downgraded its functional system, apart from the DRADIS, which worked on completely different standards. When we boarded Battlestar _Helenia_ we discovered that the ship worked with the old technology used on Galactica-class warships. Being the only one having served onboard such a ship, I was put in charge of verifying the ship's functionality with our technicians while we travelled to our destination."

_Is it beginning to dawn on you, old man, eh? Admiral Moore had prepared for us a lovely surprise._

"Go on, captain."

"Strangely enough, the hangars and decks had been kept locked till the very last moment. We were allowed to open them only when we were already due to leave. It was thus that we discovered that we had been equipped with Mark II Vipers and un-networked Raptors."

"Why did you find it strange?"

_You don't want to believe it, old man. Neither did I, at first. But then I learnt better._

"We all thought it would have been simpler to have the system work on Dr Baltar's new software –"

The look Adama and Roslin exchanged, the quick look of conspirers, Alia did not like. But she wanted to be done with the story, the bitter story she had to tell to the last drop, as soon as possible. So she went on.

" – and instead they'd taken all the trouble to downgrade the whole ship to a forty years' old system. As if Baltar's model was exactly the one they wanted to avoid."

_Don't flinch, Husker. That's nothing yet._

"Colonel Christensen shrugged our perplexities off. 'It's a prototype', he said, 'Of course it's strange'. But next thing we discovered was that _Helenia _was not one of her kind at all. Our coordinates led us beyond Tauron; and there we met _Helenia_'s twin sister, _Leda. _We of course made immediate contact – we thought she'd been stranded, but soon we discovered that we had been sent on the same spot, with the same, ambiguous directives. Also because no appreciable Tauronian subversive activity was in sight. So Colonel Christensen and Commander Ranyar, from _Leda, _decided to wait together for the end of the mission to expire. We had three days left. The Cylons arrived on the second."

_That very same shiver down my back._

"The day before I had met with Major Mbkiwa, _Leda_'s CAG_, _and discussed the technical details with him. Their Battlestar had been fitted with the same, strange criteria as ours. The major told me openly they did not feel safe, so far out of the system with no network to connect them. He told me they had discovered it was easy enough to put the system on-line: he explained how to our technicians. At the first sign of danger, he told us, they would switch on to Baltar's system using the new DRADIS technology as portal. It was strong enough to get the signal. Under his advice, we prepared to do the same on _Helenia._"

_For one moment we hung on the blade of the same razor._

"Next day it was the day of the attack."

Adama sighed as he drew back. "Your instruments sensed the nuclear attack?"

"Worse. We saw them coming."

_Like wraiths coming out of outer space. Those strange raiders shaped like broken moons. Those basestars. _

"We decided to launch our Vipers. It could be no one but the Cylons. Major Mbkiwa communicated via radio – positively ordered me to connect our system to the network. Colonel Christensen had no objection."

Adama's eyes were clear fire. "And you?"

"I refused, sir."

A long, deep silence. "Go on."

"I refused, but did not tell Colonel Christensen I had done so. The head of the technicians agreed with me."

_Without Leera, I would not have been able to do that._

"We launched the Vipers, while the commander decided to try and use the new weapon. In concert with _Leda, _they armed the DRADIS and sent the electric impulse."

Alia hesitated. One moment, two. Then she resumed talking.

"Our impulse went through. A whole sector of the enemy front collapsed. Their navigation system had been destroyed, while we had become invisible to the surviving raiders." Another pause. _To the last drop. _"_Leda'_s attack backfired. Only later we discovered that the moment they had connected their system had been infected by the virus that was the main part of the Cylon plan. The raiders went through untouched. The Battlestar blinded herself and her own fighters." _The last drop. _"The raiders took them down, all of them, before we could do something."

Neither Roslin nor Adama said anything. They listened, without saying a word.

"Colonel Christensen reacted badly. He flung himself into a Viper. He ordered the chief of the deck to launch him out. The chief had no choice but obey. The colonel headed for the thick of the cloud of debris that was now _Leda. _From my Viper I saw him go in, deaf to our calls, and disappear from the DRADIS. We were not able to make further contact."

_Say something. For goodness' sake, old man, say something._

"I communicated what was happening to _Helenia_. The colonel was no longer visible on their DRADIS as well. The XO, Major Lewis, recalled all birds. I gathered my pilots and was the last to get back. I had barely landed when the ship jumped."

_The first, the worst FTL jump of my life._

"We jumped right over Tauron. A Raptor was sent to contact the local base of the fleet. They got back telling us the worst of news. From the Tauron base they learnt about the virus. From the Tauron base we learnt our only choice." Alia's neck straightened. "News of the nuclear attacks on all the colonies had by then come through. Major Lewis tried to contact the Admiralty. She managed to get to Moore himself. His last words on our radio were: _then it was true. They were right. _Then someone, I believe the admiral himself, screamed, and a loud roar came out of our speakers. Nothing more afterwards."

_Nothing more. Probably they were nuked as he spoke to us. _

"'They were right'?" Adama's low voice now was barely a whisper.

"Yes. As if they had known and expected it. The attack, the virus. As if _Leda _and _Helenia _had been sent out patrolling, without network but with that new DRADIS, to stop an eventual attack. An attack they had had intelligence of, but could not quite believe to."

"You seem to have very clear ideas about what happened, captain."

"I've had two years to think about it, admiral." _And you won't deny the truth of it._ "You want the end of the story, sir?"

Adama closed his eyes. Then, after a long moment, he opened them again.

"Yes."

_To the last drop._

"Major Lewis had us fly over the atmosphere of Tauron. All around it was hell. There were three civilian ships nearby – one cargo, two passenger ships. We contacted them via radio. They all had FTL drives. The cargo told us about, and summoned, a tylium ship coming in. Other civilian ships saw the gathering and tried to join us. But they could only travel at subluminal speed. And the main Cylon force had seen us as well, and was bearing on us." Her chin rose higher, as if she was fighting still with that day and its lasting memories. "Sending another impulse would have meant destroying the navigation system of every ship in its range. We could not do that. So we quickly elaborated the coordinates for the jump, communicated them to the FTL ships…"_No. I cannot say it. I did it, but I cannot say it._

"And you left the other ships behind." It had been Roslin's voice, not Adama's to complete the sentence. Alia's head shot up.

"How would you know that?"

"Because we had to do the same."

Roslin rose, somehow tiredly, as someone who's exhausted after a long day.

"Tell the end of your story, Alia, but tell it quick. And then go to sleep and do not dream."

_As if you could still protect me, Aunt Laura._

"There's not much more to say. We found ourselves alone. Major Lewis assumed command and made me XO. She was sick with coughing disease, and we had not enough meds for that. She died after a few months. As the higher officer remaining, I replaced her and named my own XO. We went on like this till we found you."

_It is so easy to sum it up like this. But it's two years. Two years stolen from my life__. From the lives of all of us._

"With a fleet of five ships whose highest ranking officer was a captain."

Adama's voice had a edge to it, and Alia could not decide whether it was bitter, or admiring. _Perhaps it's both. _She looked for his eyes, but they were blank.

"Dismissed, captain."

"Aye-aye, sir."


	6. Chapter 5: Down

_There was someone who asked for more Le__e/Alia interaction, was there? :) (Though I'm afraid this won't be a pleasant one. :( )_

Chapter 5

Down

He was waiting for her outside the door. There was no one in sight – no one, and he did not touch her, he did not beckon to her. They remained silent. He showed the way, and she followed.

Through corridors and hallways immerged in the blue, underwater light of the ship they went like swimming; till he opened a door on his left, and drew aside to let her in. He closed the door after they entered.

_Lee._

He stood in front of her; and neither of them talked. Alia listened, in silence, to the mute song her heart was singing. To the part of her she'd thought lost.

_Your face…your hair, your eyes. Your hands, resting along __your sides, as they always did._

"Lee."

She broke the silence first, and it was like smashing ice; fresh water poured out of the gashes, like blood from a fresh wound.

"Alia."

_Such short, such meaningless names. Such perfect music._

He looked at her, and she could not, she did not wish to look away; he raised his right hand, as if he meant to touch her, caress her cheek, but then could not. As if he could not believe her to be real. His palm lingered, an inch from her skin, and she waited; her deep brown eyes, eyes to get lost in, chained to his. When he touched her, it was like his whole being had collapsed, incapable of standing that tension, that unbreakable joy any longer.

"Alia," he whispered, and his voice was low, raucous with restrain, "Alia."

She said nothing; there was nothing to say. Her hands rose slowly, and took his among them, and she looked at it, the hand she'd known on her skin, between her hair; she brought it to her lips, and kissed the palm in unbroken circles. When she raised her eyes, he was looking at her, looking at her as he used to do sometimes, back on Caprica, during a life sweeter than this; and she felt she would cry no more.

_How could I? Your skin, brushing away my tears. The gods are smiling._

"My love."

The word she had not dared yet to use, the word she'd kept inside, sworn to spend no more since that day, the day she'd believed all life lost; the day a winter without fires had begun.

_But now it's summer again. Smile to me, Lee._

"My love."

The same words, a different voice. But somehow, identical chords. They were almost the same height; when he leant on her, she could feel his breath, a tide of light cool air on her skin. On her lips.

_My love…_

Her eyes closed; it was only the sound of his steps that made her open them again. He was backing away from her, and every step looked like torture to him; when she made to advance, he stopped her, hand raised.

"There are things you need to know."

Alia smiled.

"What things? We are together again; you want to spend our first time telling stories?" Her smile was amused; her senses numbed by her own, addictive joy. But Lee was not smiling.

"We need to talk about this."

His right hand grasped his left, then flung away something, as if in horror; a metallic object tingled at Alia's feet. She leant and picked it up; a thin band, a shiny ring. So little, so harmless a object; but it cut through her flesh like a blade.

"No."

But he was not looking at her anymore.

_Lee…_

Her first reaction was a boundless rage. She flung herself at him that stood and did not raise a hand to defend himself, and she covered his shoulders, his chest with punches, her fists tightly closed, her mind raving, wishing she could hurt him, destroy him till he disappeared, because this was not Lee, Lee would never, never… but suddenly his arms enclosed her, her and her impotent, useless wrath: and her fists hit him more and more weakly till her nails sunk into the skin of his nape, and her nose cradled against his neck, her eyes streaked with bitter tears. They fell on their knees, bound together; and then he spoke.

"I'll get a divorce."

An automatic answer; the tilting swerve of a broken voice.

"Divorce is a sin."

"Staying away from you is a sin worse than that."

"You forgot me." So slow her words, and hollow, strangely. "You forgot me so soon."

"Never." His embrace tightened, his heart against hers hammered a faster rhythm. "Never. I could not."

"That ring tells a different story!" She struggled to free herself; but he would not let her go.

"Alia! Alia. Alia, listen to me. Please, just listen. When the Cylons hit, I lost my world. I lost you. And there were no words, no joy to fill my void."

_Oh, Lee. Lee. _

"For six, seven months I was no more than a ghost, little more than a centurion; executing orders, working as hard as I could. Thinking one day I would wake up to find myself dead."

She was not struggling anymore.

"Then someone dragged me out of it. Out of my despair, because she harboured one similar to mine." He had always been a courageous man, Lee Adama, but he had been building up inside his courage for that sentence for the whole length of Alia's report. Thinking she deserved nothing but the truth. And now he said it fast. "Kara and I suffered the same losses, knew the same dark. We fell in love, somehow, somewhere during that year of run. But she was damaged, and so was I. We could not keep it up. I could not forget you. She could not forget Zak. She ended up marrying a man she knew almost nothing of. I did the same with a girl I sought as a soothing balm. An anaesthetic. Something to keep my mind off the love I'd lost with you, and looked vainly for with Kara. Friendship turned to love can only spoil."

In his silence he asked himself how could she not be tearing away his heart with her teeth. Because Lee Adama was an honest man; and he wished for punishment when he felt he'd done wrong. The Scriptures said a man accepting punishment would receive the forgiveness of the gods; and all the deity he wished for was enclosed in his arms.

"I jumped back to Caprica looking for you."

Alia's voice came choked, strangely aphonic. He released her; still on their knees, they looked at each other, and her eyes were full of a void so deep he was scared. As if the woman behind them had been suddenly erased.

"I stole a Raptor and jumped back to Caprica alone. I committed mutiny, practically deserted my ship when we thought all that was left of mankind was the bunch of us. I searched Caprica City street by street, breaking into every apartment I could think you'd hide in, looking for the hideouts you might have thought of. I hid from centurions and breathed in the tainted air, because I had no anti-radiation meds with me. I would have died on Caprica. Major Lewis had to send another Raptor, to risk other two lives to bring me back. And they managed it only by force."

_Leera and Leonard. Tracking me down like a wild animal, dragging me away unconscious, destroyed by the radiations. Raving._

"Devoured by fever and the strongest cure they could give me in _Helenia'_s sickbay I called your name."

_Don't look at me, Lee. This isn't your punishment, you don't have to endure this before I can forgive you. __You just need to know this. How much I love you._

"When I reawakened I was pardoned. Understandable, temporary mental breakdown, Lewis called it. She was dying already, spitting out her lungs with every coughing fit. She needed me to take over."

_Don't think I can reason, just because I talk like this. You killed me, Lee. Now, I'm dead._

"There was never ease in my suffering. I mourned you today like the day the Cylons attacked."

"Alia."

She did not rise. She backed away on her knees, and only the wall helped her stand up. "Don't."

"Alia…" he rose himself, and before she could escape he had reached her.

"Don't touch me Lee. Please, don't."

"Don't tell me you don't want me. Don't tell me you don't love me. Don't lie." His voice broke in two, and he leant over her, his hand caressing her forehead. "Forgive me. Forgive me." He did not cry. He rarely did. But his cracked voice was enough to break Alia's soul, to smash it to pieces.

_No, my love, no. But how can I stay?_

"There's nothing to forgive." Her voice struggled, against her heart, against her plead. He misunderstood her; his lips sought hers, and found them.

_Don't…don't…don't…_

We are our worst enemies. Every fibre of Alia's body, every muscle in her limbs, every drop of blood in her veins, her whole being had pined for Lee for longer than most people would endure. Her love was not one to be consumed by time; her wounds could not be mended by sheer good sense. If she had fallen in love, she might have understood him; but she hadn't. All she could see now, was that he had not been able to love her as she loved him; and this broke her in two. Against her own heart, she pushed him away.

"I'm dead." She said it panting, her breath heavy. Her words rushing. "You thought me dead. Your love died. I'll love you forever, but even if you don't know it, for you I'm dead." She backed away from him, from his eyes that could not understand. From his forlorn arms, from his lost face.

_My love._

One step more, and her hand on the handle of the door.

"The dead ought to stay dead."

She heard him call, but did not stay. She was out of the door already, and running.

----------------------------------

_P.S. Don't you worry. When she says 'dead', Alia speaks metaphorically. A bit melodramatic she can be, from time to time. But she's no suicidal __type. ;) _


	7. Chapter 6: Ambrosia

Chapter 6

Ambrosia

She ran into Marien as soon as she'd turned next corner. She had to stop then – stop, halted midstep by her pilot's smile.

"Finally I found you, sir. I'm going back to _Helenia, _the chief of the deck told me they'll have you back on one of their Raptors tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

Marien's face frowned.

"Yes, sir. I thought the admiral – "

"Of course. Don't worry. See you tomorrow then."

"Aye-aye, sir."

A salute – Alia's feet were moving on their own.

"Sir!"

_If you can't bring me with you, Marien, just let me go._

"Sorry, sir, I forgot. They asked me to tell you the room is the spare 114. And that you'd know the code."

"Thank you, Marien. Off you go."

"Yes, sir."

_My matriculation number, probably. The old man never changes. _

Soothing, commonplace thoughts – thoughts that didn't need much attention, that did not claim one's pain. Everything to postpone the moment when she was alone and faced with what had happened.

_Kara. Lee. That woman, his wife, whoever she is._

Being alive and feeling oneself dead. It was not a new thing. But today it was different. _I can't find you again. Not now. Not now._

She turned and walked mechanically to the corridor leading, she knew, to room 114. It was like she could not think anymore. As if all passion had been drained away, all anger had disappeared. As if she'd left herself behind, an unnoticed heap on the floor of that room. Now all that remained was a hollow pain.

_Lee._

A blade cutting through her fibres, again and again.

_Lee. Lee. Lee._

She walked, holding herself upright, slowly, with composure. Answering with automatic smiles to the many saluting her.

_Lee. Lee. Lee._

Sometimes it doesn't show when one is bleeding. Two years before she'd gone mad with grief. Not today.

'_I thought you dead.'_

It had not been true, what poets say. That in memory love lasts forever. Her hands joined behind her back, she came in sight of room 114. It was then that she knew she could not do it. Entering her code, going in to unpack. Laying down to sleep, eyes wide open and no hope for a good cry. There would be no tears tonight.

_The d__ead don't weep._

Hers was not a conscious decision, she just overheard two pilots going down the next corridor as she stood there.

" – at Joe's, she said. We're late already."

"Oh, frak that. She's not going to be there already anyway. You know girls. Time for a bit of booze on our own, ehy?"

"Sure mate."

They stopped talking abruptly when she came in sight, and saluted at the same moment. They walked away at the stiff pace of schoolboys showing their teacher they'll be good.

_Who cares now, anyway._

She'd never been a hard drinker. Not in her darkest days, when pain had been sharp, scalding hot. She'd never sought the easy way out. Today it was just not worth fighting anymore. She went the direction they had gone. She found the bar easily enough: a hollow space, the squalid metal bulkheads softened by the dim light. People played pyramid with an old arcade; a tired radio cawed undistinguishable tunes. Joe, a balding, worn man with an untended beard creeping all over his jaw, nodded a salute.

"Can I be of any help, sir?"

Alia remembered just now she still had her best uniform on. She loosened her collar and undid a couple of buttons.

"Just a drink, please."

She sat on one of the stools, her elbows on the counter. Trying to look relaxed.

"What can I give you?"

Her empty mind could not remember any old favourite. Back on Caprica, she'd almost always drunk ice tea.

_Much to your amusement, Lee._

She shrugged.

"You're the barman."

He smiled. "We have an excellent ambrosia. Caprican reserve."

"And ambrosia it will be."

_Whatever it is. I want to go down fast._

As she waited for the drink, she looked at her hands, abandoned there, on the counter. She looked at them as if she'd never seen them before: useful tools, faithful animals she'd trained to perform whatever the moment required. They could pilot a Viper, those hands. They could command a ship. But there were other things; things that now seemed lost.

_On your skin almost paler than mine. Between your hair, the one time you let it grow. Caressing your chin, when we rented that cottage on the shores of Caprica Lake and you didn't shave for three days. __Cooking to celebrate the day you were promoted._

"Here you go."

The thick glass was put in front of her; inside it, the dark green liquid trembled slightly. Emerald reflexes danced with the light.

_Our health, Lee._

She swallowed it in one long gulp. It burnt her throat and descended in her stomach like boiling oil; a warmth spread all through her chest. Maybe she was dreaming it, but her vision seemed dimmed already, unfocused. She smiled.

"Another one."

Joe turned slightly, but on his face there was no judgement, only a question.

"Ambrosia again?"

"Thank you."

_The elastic morals of barmen._

The second glass did not even burn; and the third was smooth on her lips, like milk or cream.

_Or water._

Her fingers playing with the edge of the glass, now she could deceive herself: now she could fake she was not here, pretend she was there again. She closed her eyes, and there it was, the calm current of the lake carrying her like strong hands, and she barely moved, her head over the surface, the sun setting on a violet sky, and in front of her, waiting for her on the beach, Lee…

"'Night Joe."

"'Night Lt."

She started, her eyelids up and her whole body alert. Her head spun a bit. Confused, she looked around, and met, just beside her, the crooked smile of Hotdog.

"Goodnight, captain."

"Goodnight, lieutenant."

_Just what I needed now._

She had been considering to finish off the last of the ambrosia, but now, decidedly, she felt uneasy. The barman handed Hotdog a tall glass of something dark and withdrew in a corner drying washed things. Alia ceased to play with her glass and set it aside.

"Wonder how much…" she felt her pockets, her fingers numb.

"He'll charge you nothing today, believe me," Hotdog sipped some of his drink, then put the glass down, "He's too happy for your lot turning up like that."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Fine."

Alia managed what she thought a smile and then, on second thought, drank swiftly what remained of the green liquid. She reached, hesitantly, with her feet for the floor somewhere under the metal bar of the tall stool. His voice caught her by surprise.

"Can I buy you a drink, sir?"

"Actually, I was leaving…"

Her hands not very firm on the counter, Alia tried to get down; but the slightest pressure on her feet, even before she rose, told her clearly they were not likely to carry her away at a dignified pace.

_Frak._

Pretending indifference, she leant against the counter again.

"Maybe I could stay for one more glass."

_So you'll go away and let me stumble my way back unseen._

Hotdog turned and smiled. He had that kind of smile (that kind of face, to be honest) that can appear cocky or ironic, sarcastic or playful with the slightest shifting of his full lips. Now, it looked downright knowing.

"And a glass it is. Joe! One more glass of whatever the captain was having. And that's on me."

"Feeling generous this evening, eh Lt? You worked a miracle, sir, this one's a tight one as a rule."

Involuntary, half-repressed giggles escaped Alia.

_Ambros__ia gets easy to the head._

A new glass was placed in front of her and Joe brought away the empty one. She took the smallest sip of it, than put it down.

"Thank you."

"It's nothing."

They went back to their drinks, and a silence followed filled by the cacophonic wails of the radio. Joe punched it swearing, and it fell silent.

"So…"

"Well…"

They had talked together. They looked at each other sideways and then started laughing.

"You first."

"You, sir. Lady captain's privilege."

"All right. But you don't call me sir. Nemesis' much better."

_Kara was right. How easier it is, when it's alcohol who does the talking for you._

"Nemesis." Hotdog seemed to think it over, savouring the name. Then he smiled. "A good callsign. Your mates gave it to you?"

"My flying instructor, when I was a nugget. He said I would chase someone offending me to the edges of the system to get my justice." She looked down, at the motionless, untouched surface of ambrosia in her glass. "And that I could be as merciless as the Black Goddess herself." She smiled weakly. "Not that good a callsign after all."

"Oh, I've heard much worse." He downed a good deal of his drink and his lips curved even more obliquely than before. "Mine, for example."

Alia laughed, her head cocked sideways, like a curious cat. She held it up with her right hand.

_Weightlessness is beautiful._

"Yeah, I wondered about it. Who gave it to you?"

His smile broadened.

"_My _flying instructor. Starbuck. I was not a good boy and she got angry. It stuck."

"Kara's always been good at these things."

Shadow came back over her in a rush. Things changed colour.

_Kara. How can I see you tomorrow and not see you with him?_

Her head sunk lower, her eyes fixed on the ambrosia. It shone mysteriously of shadows and lights unclear. Hotdog saw her mood change.

"It must have been tough out there."

_Much more than that, lieutenant. Much more._

But she only smiled, a little sad smile that alcohol could not produce on its own.

"Yes. It was tough."

He remained silent for a moment, his eyes down, as if he was thinking. Than he shrugged.

"I'm no good at words, Nemesis. But let's make a toast." He raised his glass, now half-empty. "A toast, to Battlestar _Helenia_. The lucky one."

_The lucky one. _A bitter, inner laugh.

"The lucky one." She raised her glass as well, then, this time, drank. The familiar heat filled her lungs, her blood. "The lucky one," she repeated, absently.

"And to her courageous captain. For the long trip here," he added. Alia laughed.

"A good – captain – a good – oh, gods, Hotdog, just leave it be."

"No!" he shook his head, laughing with her, "just no. You earned it. Come on." He offered his inclined glass, his smile now openly sympathetic. It reached, unlike most smiles, his eyes as well.

_Such dark eyes. _

Reluctantly, she raised her glass. "All right." She touched its edge to his with a light click. They drank together. Her head spun faster.

_Gods. I really exaggerated. _

Her glass, when she put it down on the counter, seemed to vibrate of a life of its own.

_Bedtime. And tomorrow, the worst of hangovers with the hardest pain. Oh, __frak. I had it coming._

"Now I seriously ought to be going."

Her hands on the wooden surface, she hoisted herself up.

"I need some sleep. Thanks for the drink. And the company." Perhaps her smile, now, was more natural. He smiled back.

_Thanks, really. Maybe now I could even cry myself to sleep._

She stumbled on her very first step when she detached from the counter. A crash, a metallic sound; one arm safely round her waist.

"Got you."

Hotdog helped her stand, not leaving her notwithstanding her weak protests. She saw in hurrying to get her he had overturned his glass. It had fallen down and broken. Joe, from over the counter, looked at it with stoical, resigned eyes.

"One less."

Alia felt herself go red, as it hadn't happened in years.

"I'm – I'm sorry" she muttered, trying feebly to fight Hotdog off, "I'll see that – "

"No matter, sir," Joe's tone was easy, soothing. "You just go get some sleep."

"Really I –"

But the barman was not considering her anymore. He addressed Hotdog.

"You see her back home, Lt?"

"Sure. Take care of the glass, man."

"Right. 'Night."

He got a cloth and walked around the counter. Hotdog started walking away, dragging her along.

"I can walk."

"Sure." His throaty voice was now amused. His smile, for what she could see of it looking up – he was taller than her – was more crooked than ever.

"I'm not drunk."

He laughed.

"Seriously! Lieutenant, that's an order, you leave me alone."

He stopped. "All right. You walk." He let his arms drop.

_Now you watch me,_

One step, all right, a second one…a spin and another, easy catch.

"Look what fell from the sky."

_Annoying guy. Kara, in the end, was quite right._

"Okay. You can walk me back."

"Thank you, captain. What an honour. Room?"

"114."

He half-carried half-supported her all the way to the metal door. It was late; the nocturnal, softer lights had switched on and the corridors were deserted.

_At least no one else's seen me._

When they reached the door, Alia supported herself to the doorpost, entering her code as quickly as her numb fingers and her blurred mind would allow.

_Such shame. _

With a click, the door yielded. She turned to face him, her back solidly against the wall.

"Thank you."

"Never mind."

She looked at him. There was no judgement on his face. But her shame deepened.

"I – I don't know – "

"It's all right. There's nothing to apologize for," laughter entered his voice, a richer chord below a deep one, "We all get drunk from time to time."

"I'm not drunk," she said, and this time she meant it. Her body was shaken and unfit, but her mind was clearing. He stopped laughing.

"No, you're not."

She had lowered her head again, so he lifted her chin with two fingers of his right hand. She saw it coming; she saw it in his eyes, in the curve of his lips that were not smiling. In his whole body leaning over her. She did nothing to stop him.

_How strange._

It was a short, light kiss. As if they had been tasting each other, carefully, almost. But hesitation did not belong to him. He held her eyes for a moment, then he kissed her again, and this time he put his true nature into it, and it burnt. He put his hands on her waist, drawing her to him, while she clung to his neck, her back against the wall, slipping, fighting to stay upright.

He detached himself for the briefest moment, and carried her past the door. He slammed it close with his shoulder, leaning against it, kissing her again. Her legs faint, unsure, she embraced him tighter. They stumbled their way to the bed. Holding her with one arm, he swept off it her packed bag. It fell on the floor, and he kicked it away as he lay her down. Her fingers found with difficulty the edge of his T-shirt, and she pulled it over his head, her arms now surer, her head spinning still, but more slowly. Like a crazed star settling in its orbit.

He kissed her once more, holding her face between his hands, the cold steel of his dogtags on the naked skin of her neck. Their breath was quicker now, their heartbeats uneven. Panting, he detached himself.

"Nemesis…"

"You have a name, Hotdog, do you?"

He smiled his crooked smile. "Brendan."

Her lips curved; the tiniest, the strangest of smiles.

"Brendan."

She reached forward for his tags, and pulled him down again. He kissed her deeply, then pinned her wrists to the bed with eager, warm hands.

A whisper into her ear.

"Alia."


	8. Chapter 7: Athena

_Hi guys. S__orry it took so long to update (finals incoming). Here comes in Athena, as many of you were curious to read about. By the way: thanks for the reviews. To answer one of them: plenty of shooting action a couple of chapters in the future, don't worry. I'm a Viper lover myself. Stay tuned, though; interestingly nasty things happening even before the drives heat up. 0:-) _

Chapter 7

Athena

There are people who can drink themselves into oblivion and remember nothing afterwards. Alia did not belong to them. When next morning she woke up at the shrill call of the alarm clock, the night just passed came back to her mind fully, in sharp, neat images glued to the back of her conscience. And then, even if she had forgot, the naked arm of Hotdog thrown over her waist would have been enough. She blinked twice, trying to think clearly.

The hangover was a hammering iron box in the inside of her skull. Her guilt, a soft but heavy hood all around her heart.

_Frak._

Careful not to wake him, she hoisted herself up sitting on the bed. His arm slid down and he mumbled something, but he did not stir. Alia confusedly pulled her hair away from her eyes and looked, in a strange feeling of disbelief and shame, at the man she had spent the night with.

Asleep, he looked different. The playfulness, the grinning irony, the cockish insolence had disappeared from his face with the crooked smile. He slept in the serene, if slightly frowning way, of children when they are happy. He had a slender face, with a long chin and a long, straight nose. His hair, a reddish brown, fell all over his closed eyes. His cheeks were scarred by the traces of what in his early years must have been a devastating acne. Still, there was something about his features that made them attractive, even handsome.

He slept on his right side, like a lion when it's tired. The silver blanket fell from his shoulders revealing his upper arms, the neck with the chain of the tags. Like all Viper pilots, he had a trained, fit body; but it was also a graceful one, slender but strong, with thin, long hands and tapering fingers.

_Beautiful hands._

She remembered them on her skin and shivered. Alia had never been one to sleep around; actually, she'd never slept with anyone but Lee. Waking up beside a stranger had never happened to her before. If it had been possible, she would have dressed and run. He woke up before she could savour the thought one moment more; and whatever Alia expected of him, he didn't do it. One corner of his lips curving, he reached out for her and drew her nearer, before kissing her long and deep. And once again, she did nothing to stop him.

"Good morning, captain."

Irony. Seemingly, detachment.

_Once and never again. It does happen. All right then. Goodbye, lieutenant._

But she did not say so. She let him embrace her and drag her down again, against his body and its warm skin. While his lips let go of hers and caressed her face, her hair.

"If you're up like this, it must be day."

She whispered, subdued sounds against his chest.

"There is no such thing as day and night. Only different lights and shifts."

A light chuckle.

"Correct."

_Why are you still holding me?_

It felt so good, huddled against him, like a heap or a ball, or a baby. Till she suddenly shook herself free and sat on the bed.

"Please turn."

"What?"

"Turn. I have to dress."

Another chuckle, like pieces of wood clashing against each other in his throat.

"Aye-aye, sir."

He turned towards the bulkhead, and she rose. The cold air assailed her bare skin, and she walked around the room, gathering the clothes scattered on the floor. She made a bundle of her best uniform and, as quick as possible, slipped on an ordinary one. She turned to meet Hotdog's smiling eyes.

"Lieutenant…"

"Nothing I hadn't seen, captain."

Without apparent embarrassment, he got off the bed and began dressing with calm.

_To blush like a schoolgirl for this. After all that's happened._

She saw in the mirror the tangled bush that her hair was and combed it with her fingers, pretending to be absorbed in it. In the glass she saw him approach and bend over her, kissing her neck. She closed her eyes, and his arms closed around her waist. Before her shame came back in one burning rush.

"This night" she said, but whatever ending she could think of for that phrase felt wrong. She let it fall, looking at him with the uncertain, guilty eyes of a girl who thinks she might deserve punishment. He smiled.

"I know when to keep my mouth shut, Nemesis."

She could not help smiling back.

"Thanks, Hotdog."

There was nothing more to be said, not now at least. He put his dogtags back under his shirt and said, his voice easy: "How about some breakfast?"

"That would be nice."

_Maybe then I can take something for this headache. _

They went to the door, and on the threshold she turned. The unmade bunk was the only thing speaking of what had happened. She pushed the hatch open and they were in the corridor, quickly mixing themselves to the flow of people walking up and down it.

"The kitchen's this way," he said, leading her. Alia chuckled.

"I served on this ship, you know."

"Sorry. It just comes natural to show the way. Not a lot of new faces around."

"You were stationed here before the attack?"

He smiled.

"Nope. I was just an academy washout who was embarked upon a cargo with FTL drives."

"They…"

"Threw me out of the academy? Yeah. Superior called me 'Tauronian filth.' Didn't take that kindly."

"Sorry."

"For him, I hope. I believe his nose was never the same again."

_Only humans could do this. Giggling like kids, at our age. _

"Then a lose drone killed thirteen pilots in one go down on deck. And everyone in the fleet who could fly was taken as nugget."

"A stroke of luck."

"For me. Not for them."

A shadow passed upon his face.

"Is everything…?"

"A friend died a couple of weeks ago."

His eyes darkened, lost in the memory of a face, a voice Alia hadn't known. Then he shook it off.

"Died because of her bravery. The best way to go for our lot."

_Our lot._

"Here we go. Hope some algae coffee got left over."

The kitchen was crowded, everywhere the bright clatter of metal cups and spoons. An atmosphere light with the aftermath of numbing joy. When she entered, the clamour of loud cheer saluted her. Smiling, her cheeks flushed, she let Hotdog lead her to a table where two pilots made space.

"Down here, captain. It's an honour."

While Hotdog went to fetch breakfast, she looked around. A good, cheerful mood enlightened things, made them clear, shiny. Smiling faces around the tables. The pleasant sting of pride filled her with the warmth, the affection only human beings can show.

_They all seem so happy._

All of them, but one. A known face.

"Boomer!"

The sudden, incomprehensible silence filled the room as Alia got up and strode across the floor, among the tables to her old comrade in arms.

_Why are you looking at me like that, Sharon?_

The almond-shaped, deep brown eyes of Sharon Valerii were dark with anger.

"After yesterday" she said, her voice cold, "I'd think you would not waste your time with a 'heap of wire'."

"What…?"

"You made it clear enough, Nemesis. And don't call me Boomer. She left long ago."

"Don't joke now, S. What are you talking about?"

"What are _you_ talking about, captain. If we machines don't deserve mercy, then friendship is out of question."

For a moment or two, Alia's brain refused to piece together the tesserae, to look at the mosaic as it was. Then, it clicked together in one blinding truth.

"YOU!"

Alia's roar broke the deafening silence. Sharon looked up at her defiantly.

"What, you didn't know? They call me Athena. Boomer's gone back to the basestars."

_Sharon, no, not Sharon…_

"Alia," Hotdog's quiet, sudden voice beside her, "You didn't know the Cylons looked…?"

"We…we saw them, months ago, on a planet on which we fought them. Dozens of them, blonde girls, tiny men and even old ones."

"Models One, Five and Six," Sharon's voice was neutral, "I'm number Eight. And I chose to stay."

"You…they allowed you, free…"

"I'm a commissioned colonial officer."

Alia stared at her – _it _– one, two seconds, before breaking into a sharp, mirthless laughter, one of those laughter people will use when they feel irony is bearing down way too heavy for words.

"A commissioned colonial officer," the laughter stopped, but Alia looked down at the unknown – _thing, leatherwork _were words that crossed her mind – with a cold, unpleasant stare, "The old man will have his reasons, " she said, her voice steel, "But if you're what you say you are, then, _Number Eight, _to me you're nothing more than a toaster. And I wish I could shoot you down as such."

_Silence like violin strings._

It was a moment before Number Eight got up, lunging for Alia's throat, her fist hitting the air where her face should have been.

_Frakking toaster._

She ducked, then hit hard, her stretched arm finding the stomach, the soft skin of the other. Athena, as she was called, reached for Alia's hair, but before she could get it strong arms drew them apart.

"Athena, please…"

"Nemesis! Nemesis, stop!"

Hotdog dragged her away, while Helo, just arrived, shielded with his bulk the tiny figure of Number Eight. The Cylon was still fighting to free herself; Alia let Hotdog drew her far and then stood.

"What did I say? Sly, treacherous toaster…"

Athena's new lunge was stopped again by Helo.

"Agathon, man, that I should see you again like this! What, protecting the admiral's mechanical pet?"

Helo turned. Like everybody else, he had aged like nothing in those two years. His face was bitter.

"She's my wife. We have a baby."

Alia stayed silent for a long moment, and it seemed she was about to resume her joyless laugh. Then, shaking her head, she said: "Wow, you decidedly lose no time. A bun in the toaster like lightning, captain. Soon we'll all start having half breeds running around on iron joints."

This time, Athena made no attempt to attack her. But the hatred, the despair on her face were clear.

"At least, if she were the old Boomer," Alia spoke calmly, but the sarcasm in her words was nastier than screams, "I would try to understand. That you died of love for her was clear enough. But to exchange that for the first rubber doll that comes around…"

The people around, half standing, half still sat, looked from Alia to Athena, uncertain. They had accepted the Cylon among them, it had been clear; but now their behaviour screamed they could not condemn the captain's words, because it was as if she was talking for them, for a part of them that hadn't died yet, and no acceptance could ever erase.

"…but no, now that I come to think of it, she preferred Tyrol to you, did she? Well, I guess they all have different programs. Advanced models." She shook her head, knowingly. "Though this one must be rot even for their lot. To turn to the humans." Alia smiled. "Bad luck indeed, poor toaster."

It looked like Helo had something to say, like words were choking him; but he did not utter one of them. Alia turned and headed for the door. Hotdog threw one look at the couple in the opposite corner, than followed her.

"She really joined us, you know…" he said, his voice low.

Alia shrugged and answered, loud enough to be heard: "Don't care. The Cylons killed billions of us, and she's one of them. Or did you forget?"

She did not turn to look, but if she had, she would have seen the change, the shifting on the face of the people as their chins sank an inch. They remembered. And they hated.

When Lieutenant Gaeta crossed the threshold, tension hit him like a punch; and he spoke quickly, because he didn't feel like lingering too much.

"Admiral Adama requests you to report to his office immediately, Captain Roslin."

"Thank you, Mr Gaeta."

Without looking back, Alia left.


	9. Chapter 8: Orders

_Oh, I'm so sorry. But I have my darn finals in ten days. Just this evening I needed a break from schoolbooks. When I'm through with that I'll be back everyday. Well, almost. ;)_

_P.S. Loads of people talking here, but sometimes you find yourself needing a chapter like this to bring the story on. Chapter 9 is packed full, I promise. _

Chapter 8

Orders

"…that you would not trust Alia, after all this."

"I trust her, it's her crew I don't know. Remember _Pegasus_?"

"I do. But she's no Cain."

"For the love of the gods, no. Still, I must be sure."

Alia paced up and down the narrow corridor, and the voices filtering through the hatch rubbed in slowly, almost unconsciously in her. She was thinking about something else.

_Sharon…Sharon! Veins, wires, leather, skin…_

Boomer Valerii and her botched, dreadful landings. Her proud demeanour when she was reminded, usually quite roughly, that she was the worst Raptor pilot _Galactica _had seen since the Cylon war. The affair with Tyrol she tried to conceal, but that all of the deck crew, and a good deal of the pilots, knew about. And then everything else: meals shared, jokes exchanged, occasional outbursts of rage when the pressure was too much. Common memories of friendship and comradeship; nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that stuck out, nothing that could give away what was.

_All of it so pathetically, deceivingly human. _

Like a trailer at the flicks memories of Boomer glued themselves together and passed through her mind, their speed increasing and increasing, multiplying themselves till they blurred and became dozens and hundreds, numberless Boomers staring at her, and every one a different body and pre-programmed brain. All of them smiling, because they had cheated her perfectly.

_Did she know? All that time…did you know it, Boomer?_

If only she had been the one there. She could have screamed, she could have cried. She could have asked her why and when, and what it had meant and meant still. To be a machine. But Boomer had gone; back to the basestars, the unknown one had said.

_At least she had the decency to stick to her side._

The thought of that, the one clad and behaving like a human, _Athena _as she was called, _the name of a goddess, nonetheless, _made Alia sick. The sight of Helo touching her, protecting her, _she's my wife, we have a baby, but machines don't have babies, Helo, they can't love,_ was worse than headache, was something that did not pass and throbbed in her chest like an infected wound.

_A commissioned colonial officer, she left long ago, motherfrakking Cylon bitch, heaps of wire, heaps of wire… _

"…I can't handle it alone anyway. I'm not the same, old man."

"It'll do you good. Take responsibility. Be in charge again."

"It's useless. One of yours, for all of them?"

"The CAG. And Lee as commander."

A moment of silence.

"You are going to relieve Alia of command?"

Something was tweaking at the surface of her alertness, something required her attention. Alia had to focus back, on the muffled words from the edge of the hatch that did not adhere rightly to the post.

"No. Not exactly. I'm sure he'll keep her as XO. Anyway, she was only acting commander."

"They'll hate you for this. They've followed her till here. They believe in her."

"She won't undermine Lee. She'll understand. They're old friends."

Another silence, and Alia knew Kara was thinking the same as her, the day before.

_So blind you can be at times, old man._

"I can't go alone. They're more than the pilots we ever had. I can't – "

"Bring someone. Some of their effectives will be transferred here anyway, to even the numbers up. Some of their Vipers as well. You could bring someone of your own."

"Helo."

"I need him here. You know that."

"Hotdog."

"You think he'll be useful?"

"He's a good pilot and a brave fighter. He'll earn their respect."

"He's an anarchist."

"And a troublemaker, sometimes a drinker, and one who sleeps around. Reminds me of someone."

Adama chuckled.

"That's why you get along so well, do you Kara? Just like twins."

"Not that much, admiral. His mind's not as frakked up as mine. I can't do this."

"You can. You must."

"Don't put me through this."

"It's an order, Captain Thrace."

The silence this time was deeper.

_Bitter._

The clicking of heels of someone springing to attention.

"Aye-aye, sir."

Adama laughed.

"I knew it couldn't be that serious. What do you hear, captain?"

"Nothing but the rain, sir!"

"Then grab your gun and bring in the cat."

"Boom, boom, boom!"

Mixed laughter, this time.

_Lee and Kara…and me. And, oh gods, Brendan…_

"So you pick Hotdog?"

"I do. He's my wingman."

"So be it. Notify to Petty Officer Kowalski the change."

"All right. Who will…?"

"Tell Alia? Me. I sent Gaeta call her."

"Then I had better be on my way."

"All right. See you later, Starbuck."

She heard Kara approaching the door, but Alia did not step back. She waited, hands clasped behind her back, for her to open it and startle at her sight.

"Oh, you're here already. Go in. The old man has something to tell you."

Smiling, she made to pass her. Alia did not move, but her words pinned Starbuck midstep.

"Don't you?"

Kara turned. "Tell you what?" She was still smiling.

"I don't know," Alia stepped forward, hands still behind her back, "Perhaps something about Lee."

The smile did not fade from Kara's lips. It froze. When it turned to stone, it was more of a heartless grin.

"We thought you dead."

"You frakked my man."

"It was long ago."

Kara turned to go away. Alia's voice was clear when she answered.

"Liar."

Kara stopped. Alia went on.

"I could always tell it when you lied," her voice was easy, deceivingly light, "Especially about men. The laughs we had about them, pilots and nuggets, empty affairs. None of them mattered, before Zak. And I was pleased, because it meant we would be sisters-in-law. Would you frak your sister's man, Kara?"

"It's childish, all of this. You were dead. You can't possibly…"

"Blame it on you? No. Perhaps you're right. No. I can't. You don't love forever, you don't mourn forever. I learnt it this night, on my own skin."

_After this night I have no right to cry anymore. But I got to tell you this, Starbuck._

"So what? You're going to sulk like a kid? You're going to put on a face and cry because bad Starbuck messed around with your only fiancé?"

The slap hit before Alia knew it was going. And Kara hit back in a blink.

_This hurts more than headaches._

"Get a grip, Alia. Grow up. Leave aside your romantic fantasies, for once."

"Life's not all in sex, Kara. I wish you'd learnt it before."

"Gaeta? Did you bring Nemesis?"

The admiral's voice, from inside the room. Without a word, Alia passed Starbuck. The other laughed without joy.

"Go in, Alia. You're gonna have a surprise." She hesitated, her face, doubting. "I wish…"

There were no words in Alia's stare. Just a cold silence. She entered the room. Adama was waiting for her. He had one half-full drink in his hand.

"Want one, Alia?"

The hammering in her head increased.

"No, thank you sir."

Adama smiled.

"How formal. Please, have a seat."

"I…"

"You prefer standing. All right then. I'll stand as well."

_Don't act nice. Tell me what you prepared. And fast._

Adama put down his own glass, and settled better in his seat. When his eyes set again on her, they were neutral, determined. The eyes he put on when he wanted to play seriously.

_All right. Go on._

"The work you did with _Helenia _was remarkable. Truly so. To come all this way, losing such a few men. Not many colonels would have been capable to handle that."

He paused.

_If you're waiting for me to acknowledge the sugar, you better think again._

He went on.

"So many survivors…jocks and birds superior in number to the ones we had at the very beginning."

"_Helenia_'s big, sir. And she was full when we started. It's no credit of mine."

"Still." Adama sipped, slowly. Alia's eyes wandered on the old books on the shelves.

_It's the books I missed __most. I had brought with me so few…_

"You showed great skill. The greatest. You always promised well, since your time here. You are a razor. Someone to be trusted. But unfortunately, even in the best of crews, not all of the men are razors."

Alia made no reply. She raised her chin an inch, nothing more than that.

"A couple of years ago we met another ship who had survived. _Pegasus. _Admiral Cain commanded it. They had had a tough life, and they had become something I do not wish to see again."

_I remember Cain. She was always walking the line. Hard as rock. And now. Is that your excuse, admiral?_

"Of course you know your crew better than anyone else. It's only right you retain a position of command. But I'm strengthening the fleet, redistributing force now that I have some new blood."

Another pause. Another deadly silence.

"Sixteen of your pilots and vipers are moving on here. I'm putting Starbuck in charge of your remaining as CAG. She'll bring along her wingman."

_Your surprise was spoiled, I'm afraid, old man._

"And I'm putting Apollo in command."

"Sir."

"I wish you to know that my trust on you and your attitude to command are untouched."

"Yes, sir."

_Don't look at me like that, admiral. Any other day, I would be here screaming at you. But today I'm hungover and tired, and Sharon Valerii was a Cylon, and I've been frakked tonight as I had not been in my whole life. So sorry, I'm not putting on a scene. Fun spoilt, Husker?_

"Your new commander, actually, should be coming already. I'm sure things will work out well, now we're all unite again."

"Yes sir."

Some doubt had to pass Adama's mind, because he looked like he had something to add. But then, with a timing usually found only in bad novels and perfect movies, Lee Adama walked in.

"You sent for me?"

"Yes. It seems, major, your stripes won't be spoilt anymore."

Husker smiled. Apollo crossed the threshold and came to a halt beside Alia, avoiding to look at her.

"Sir?"

"I'm putting you in command of _Helenia. _The commission is already effective. You can accompany your XO on her Raptor back. I'll have your personal effects reach you."

"But…"

"These are my orders, major."

He stood.

"And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with the president to attend."

_I can smell burnt, old man. I have this idea you are fonder of my aunt than property would advise. As if I was anyone to judge about that._

Alia saluted, and turned to the door.

_Come along, Apollo. It seems we are going to have fun._

Her head felt heavy and light at the same time; she had not been drunk in years. Lee trailed after her, but on the hatch already, Nemesis turned.

"No questions, admiral. Just a request."

The old man looked at her.

"I would be grateful if, whatever you conjure up next for my ship, sir, you kept your mechanical pet out of it."


	10. Chapter 9: Fortune's fool

_If fanfiction__ were shot instead of written, I could never have done this to you. You would have immediately seen it and pinned me to my duty to explain. But hey, fanfictions _are_ written, so here we go. Ready for a little surprise? ;)_

_P.S. I hadn't the guts to make Will Shakespeare a Caprican playwright, so you'll have to take Alia's thought and title of the chapter as her own creation instead of a quotation from Romeo&Juliet. But we Earth people know the truth. You rule, Will._

Chapter 9

Fortune's fool

They walked side by side to the hangar deck, and she could see him stiffen with every pace, his breath anxious and quick under the blue jacket of the uniform. He tried to steady it, and he never looked at her. This allowed Alia swift, painful sideways glances.

_What have I done?_

The mindlessness of the hangover left her at moments, leaving behind a lucid conscience that was worse than headache. In that brief, endless journey to the hangar, she came to welcome the next wave of hammers inside her skull.

_It's not too late, though. If Brendan can keep his mouth shut…and Kara…_

It was, all of that, preposterous on the edge of unreal. During the last two years her every energy, her every thought had been devoted to her ship, her crew, her fleet. The pain for Lee had been the foundation of her days, but something she had to cope with. Because she was a commander, willing or not, and she had duties to take care of. But now…

_Now, I'm XO on a ship that is only second in a wider __fleet. I have to follow orders. And while I do it, like every good soldier, not to think about them. Which leaves a dreadfully empty space behind._

She looked at him again. His profile, the lips closed tight, as if against words he had neither strength nor courage to speak. His hollow cheeks, the strong outline of the jaw.

_I love you._

The thought came so obvious, so clear it was almost blinding. And the night before, forgotten. They reached the hangar.

"Congratulations, major. Racetrack will bring you over."

"Thank you chief."

The lean girl of the day before waited beside a Raptor, its hatch open. She smiled and saluted.

"The new commander of _Helenia _then, sir?"

Apollo sighed. "The new commander of _Helenia._" He climbed inside without looking back. Alia climbed behind him.

"Sir! A moment! Sir!"

Gaeta came running to them, a little blue box in his hand.

"The admiral had just reached the CIC when he remembered. Your new rank, sir. Congratulations."

"Thank you, Gaeta."

Racetrack climbed in.

"Ready to go at command, sir."

"Let's go then."

The hatch shut on the smiling face of Gaeta. The only sound in the Raptor remained that of Racetrack checking the consol. Lee toyed with the box, his face absent.

"Let me do it."

Alia snatched the box from his fingers and opened it. On the little cushion, the pins shone.

_I never wore these. There was no need. I was the last commander in the universe. We left them__ on Lewis' uniform and flushed them out of the airlock with her body._

She took one from the cushion and reached for his collar. Lee let her do it, his eyes on her. She avoided them.

"I did not want this."

"Don't worry. It's not your fault."

"Alia."

They were bringing the Raptor to the flight pod. No one was paying attention to them. She met his eyes, but said nothing.

"Alia, listen to me. What happened yesterday…you were gone, and then you came back. I have no excuses, I should have, I would have…I don't know. The world was over. I'd lost you with it. And when I…when I…" he looked for words, but found none. He sighed. "I can understand it if you don't want me…back. But if you could, if you could just…"

"Shh." She pressed a finger to his lips. "We'll talk about that later." She smiled. "Commander."

He smiled back. "All right, XO."

_We can do this. We can forget. You thought me dead. I was drunk, and desperate. We'll laugh about this__, one week from today._

The pod was clear, the bulkheads withdrawn. They took flight. She pinned the other insignia on his collar.

"Very pretty," she approved. He smiled again. And, as they both knew, it had nothing to do with that silly remark.

The space surrounded them, black nuggets of void between the bulk of the ships. During the night _Helenia _had moved closer, now it stood among the civilian ships, her enormous, dark hull hovering among the civilian vessels not far from _Galactica._

_Nice work, Connor._

Two Vipers flashed past them, a swift communication turning on the radio.

"Racetrack, that's Starbuck and Hotdog, inbound for _Helenia_. They'll wait for you on the deck. The change of command has already been communicated via radio. They are waiting for you on the ship."

"Roger, _Galactica._"

All of a sudden, Alia laughed. Lee looked at her, his eyes questioning.

"You'll have to hold a speech," she said. He chuckled.

"I always hated them. Perhaps you should introduce me." He suddenly became serious. "Seriously, Alia. Tell them bye as a commander. It's only right."

She laughed. "You and the old man are so alike sometimes," she said, "'It's only right' here and there." She leant back more comfortably in her seat. "All right," she allowed, "I'll tell my dogs not to bite your head off."

They smiled. They landed with a soft, smooth descent on the pod.

The voices of the specialists filled the radio. The Raptor was moved on the hangar, where a crowd had already gathered. They stood silent and concentrate in circle. In the first row, in the empty space the crew had left around them, Starbuck and Hotdog waited, helmets under their arms. A few crewmen attended to their Vipers, but most of the deck personnel, and a good deal of pilots and other officers, stood there.

"In the mouth of the wolfs, ehy?" Lee's voice in Alia's ear was barely a whisper. She chuckled.

"In the mouth of the wolfs."

The hatch opened. Lee was the first to step forward, Alia one step behind him.

_The place of the__ XO._

The crowd did not salute. They looked, mute and disdainful, at the man with a commander's pins on his collar, and at the silent captain behind him, with enraged eyes.

_I understand you, boys. We we__re like a family. But that's no longer true. As pathetic as it sounds, we have to think again in terms of greater good._

"Salute your commander!" Alia's voice was harsh when she gave the order. The crew obeyed. She looked at Lee, swiftly, and nodded.

_The ball's yours, Apollo._

"Crew of _Helenia_" he said, his voice loud, sure, "finding you, after all this time, is the answer of the gods to all our prayers. Thanks to you, to your courage and your skills, the fleet is now stronger. You renewed our hope to find for humanity a new home. And of that, everyone in the ships that surround you should be grateful."

He paused, scrutinizing the faces in front of him. They were hostile, uncertain. They were no longer a crew: two years of run, believing they were the last, had made them a pack. And packs recognize only one alpha.

"You're no longer alone," he went on, his voice full of all the strength it could convey, "The days of the despair, the days of the solitude have come to an end. We are all together, again. Two fleets have become one. A stronger one, thanks to you. _Galactica _and _Helenia _are now unite to ensure the safety, the welfare of the civilians. They can't, and they won't remain separate ships. From today on, we shall mix."

An enraged murmur ran through the crowd.

"I've come to assume command of this ship, not to usurp Captain Roslin's authority, for she is and she will remain the hero that brought you here, all this way," the murmur died, eyes fixed again on him, waiting for him to continue, "but for a simple matter of ranks. She will be my XO, and I'll have to learn from her about this ship, and its crew," he raised his voice louder: "A crew of heroes like their captain, who've survived two years in outer space. To yourself, men and women of _Helenia_, because you deserve it: Hip hip!"

"Hooray!"

_They're putting their rage in it, Lee, but also their pride. Perhaps, you're doing it._

"From today, I, and Captain Roslin, shall see to the procedure that will mix the fighting crews of _Galactica _and _Helenia. _Captain Thrace, and Lieutenant Costanza, here, are the first of _Galactica_'s pilots to join your ranks. Others will follow, and some of you will go on _Galactica. _Captain Thrace will be your new CAG; the officer that led you to this day, the new CAG of the flagship. To them, hip hip!"

_I don't think __the old man will like this rush of democracy, but anyway, Lee. Judging from their hoorays, it was the best thing to do._

"And now, for Captain Roslin…!"

_And they say chivalry is dead._

Lee looked at her and nodded. "I warmed them up for you," he whispered.

"Thanks," mouthed Alia, before taking the word herself.

"Comrades," she began, and her words were drowned in cheers, "Comrades at arms, finally we are no longer alone. I agreed with the assignment of Major Adama as our new commander…" – _little, good lies, but not so much lies after all – _"And require you to accept him with trust and eagerness. I've known him many years, and we could not have hoped for a better man," – _and that's true, Lee, really true – _"and as for Captain Thrace, well Starbuck's the best flyer I've ever seen, and we can all sleep more comfortably with her onboard."

Sideways, she looked for Kara's eyes. And she found them. She was smiling, although somehow tightly.

_We'll make up, K. As always._

"And now, for our new comrades…"

After the last hoorays had died away, the crowd dispersed. As Lee and Alia went to join Kara, a pilot approached them.

"Captain Nemesis, sir…"

"Oh, Hardman. Commander, meet _Helenia's _CAG, Lieutenant Samuel 'Greyhound' Hardman. Our best fighter."

"Thank you, captain. Sir, I wanted to welcome you on board and thank you for what you said…"

"Of course, Lieutenant. It will be a privilege for _Galactica _to have you onboard."

"Greyhound, where's Lieutenant Knight?"

"Waiting for you in the CIC, captain. Lieutenant Connor is with her."

"Thank you, Greyhound. Dismissed."

"Aye-aye, sir."

"Knight and Connor?"

"Yes. My former XO and tactical officer. She's the head of the technicians, her team is great. I would advise you to keep him, he's dragged us out of a couple of very tight corners."

Lee stopped in his tracks and smiled.

"Alia, this is your ship. Of course I'll take your word about it…and its crew. I won't let the prudence of the old man treat all this like an unexploded bomb." He lowered his voice. "I won't let ranks get between us. Not after all this."

_Perhaps Hotdog was right. I am__ the lucky one._

"If you're done with the verbal smooching, I could go and get to know my pilots, you know."

Kara was right behind them, Hotdog following her, on his face an uncertain look.

"You could follow us on bridge. Lieutenant Knight can show you around."

Alia led the way up the stairs, through the corridors she knew like her own veins.

"Come on, Nemesis. You've gone all soft and slow, I can see."

Alia smiled.

"At least I haven't that horsey face, Starbuck."

_Patched up already. With all you can say about Kara, she's not one to hold grudges._

They arrived in sight of the bridge.

"We had to occupy another room for the downgrade, I don't need to tell you how much more machinery is needed to move manual systems. Now, if you'll let me introduce…"

"YOU FRAKKING CYLON!"

All that Alia saw was Kara throwing herself forward, lunging for Leera's throat. But when she knocked the technician aside like a ragdoll, Alia could see it was Connor she was getting at.

"Starbuck, what the frak are you…"

"YOU DON'T MOVE!"

_Lee? What does this…._

Apollo had grabbed a sidearm – one of the other officers must have given it to him, because they all stared, impotent, and none of them seemed to know what was happening. He advanced slowly through the CIC, keeping Connor within reach. Hotdog was holding back Kara, but he barely managed to restrain her. Connor, his face as puzzled as those of the ones surrounding him, looked at Alia incredulously.

"Captain Roslin…?"

"SHUT UP! PUT YOUR HANDS UP – NOW!"

Alia nodded. Apollo did not seem particularly prone to think twice before pulling the trigger. Assenting, Connor put his hands up.

"Hotdog – you go and secure him. Marine, give him the cuffs."

"Aye-aye, sir."

One of the marines standing guard on the door handed Hotdog the cuffs. The pilot let Kara be – she breathed heavily, and did not take her eyes off Connor. As Costanza cuffed her tactical officer, Alia turned and faced her new commander.

"Could I please know, _sir_…"

Lee was not looking at her, his eyes were fixed on Hotdog. When he had cuffed the prisoner, Lee finally lowered his gun and turned to her.

"He's a Cylon. One of the humanoid models."

"We call him," Kara's voice was flat, but somehow uncertain, broken, "Leoben Conoy."

_This can't…_

"It's a lie, Captain!" Connor fought to shake himself free, but Hotdog was holding him tight. "You've known me for years! Tell them!"

"Lee," not caring about ranks, not now, Alia spoke in the calm, reasonable voice she would have used for a crazed horse, "There must be a mistake. Look, Connor served under Christensen for four years before I joined their ship. And he had come along Lewis from another two years' service on _Atlantia._ He's one of my best men, and we wouldn't have made it here without him." She laughed, briefly. "He's no more a Cylon than I am."

Lee shook his head. "They planted sleeper agents among us for years before the attack. Doral, Boomer…so many of them. We would have never suspected them. New Caprica – I'll tell you about it, but believe me. He's a Cylon."

"No! No!" Connor kept fighting, his voice now desperate, streaked with urgency, "It's not true! I was born on Picon! I attended war college on Virgon, and I – "

"YOU SHUT THE FRAK UP!" Kara's wrath was coloured with fire. She walked towards him, her eyes slits. "One of you bastards held me…"

"Kara!" Lee's voice recalled her to order. "He's not the same one. We need to question him."

She looked like she would rather choke than let it be, but finally she stood down.

"Hotdog, have the marines show you the way to the brig. And guard him there till we come."

"Yes sir."

"No! Captain Roslin – Captain!"

Connor was dragged away by Hotdog, and the CIC remained silent, strangely empty notwithstanding the people inside it. Alia's brain refused to work.

_Connor – Conoy…_

"Kara, you give the orders to the civilian ships that came along _Helenia _– no shuttles to depart or approach, under no circumstances. They must be searched. If they knew only three models, there could be others."

Kara's eyes were blank.

"STARBUCK!"

She shook herself. Slowly, she came back into focus.

"You must do that. There's no one else who can."

She nodded and went, her lips tight.

"Nemesis – "

_The secret is not letting it go. Not falling apart. The secret is finding the one way out. I'm not the lucky one, after all. Just Fortune's little fool._

She turned to Lee. She was not shaking, but she was rigid, stiff. Her skin sickeningly pale. Her voice, somehow, managed to stay normal.

"Call _Galactica,_" she said, "Ask the admiral to send over his mechanical pet. We're gonna need it."


	11. Chapter 10: Detail

Chapter 10

Detail

The Raptor pulled in slowly and landed in the bay with what to Alia appeared to be an insufferable, reasonless calm.

_She _had _to take it with ease. Cylon bitch._

She bit her lip, her whole body stiffening.

_Not the last Cylon around, it seems. Connor…_

Lee beside her was perfectly still, waiting, as she did, for the admiral's mechanical pet to indulge them and accompany them in the interrogatory.

_Thanks to the lords of Kobol, you stayed._

Kara had been escorted by Marien on the other ships, with the precise charge not to come back till, aided by the marines, she had checked for the presence of other Cylon agents. Alia had the impression Lee wanted to keep her away from _Helenia _till things had been sorted out.

_Whatever happened on that place, New Capr__ica, must have been past the usual bad. Worse than Socrata, even._

The remembrance of Kara's mother, the one time she'd seen her, was not a pleasant one.

_One of the many wrecks of the first war._

The thought of what she had to do in a short time, she'd packed accurately and set aside. As she always did, or at least tried to, with unpleasant thoughts.

_There must be some way out of here._

The aftermath of the discovery had left her empty, useless in the middle of the CIC while everyone around her moved way too quickly for her to follow. She had watched Lee, apparently cool, untouched, calling _Galactica. _She had not heard what the old man said, but she could guess it easily enough. His voice had resounded in outraged growls from the receiver. Notwithstanding this, Apollo had put in what he had promised about mixing crews. The growls had grown louder.

_You w__ere always good at this. Switching your heart off like a useless tool. But then your conscience would come after you, sooner or later. The Kindly Ones were always on your steps. Like with Gianne._

Strange that she should think about her now. Lee's one, great mistake. The one time in his life he had run away from his responsibilities, the one time in his life he hadn't done, above all chosen, the right thing. He had paid bitterly for it. They had paid for it, both.

_Our one break-up, your drunkenness that night. Zak told me about it. How he came in your usual bar and didn't find you. The barman told him you'd left with this girl. She was another with something to forget. Drinking away her heartache, picking a man to soothe a night otherwise too cold. The one thing you hadn't planned was that tiny life you made._

The deckhands were taking the Raptor to the hangar, in a few minutes they would meet Athena. Alia stole another glance of Lee, swiftly, before he could notice. Before he could guess what she was thinking about, again.

_Months after you couldn't even remember her name. You had woken up i__n an unknown room, dressed in haste and come back to me. We made up so easily. It has always been like breathing, between you and me. When she came looking for you, telling you of the baby, at first you would not recognize her. _

The end of the story was one too bitter to remember now. Now that Kreutzer came to call them.

"The pilot is ready, sir."

_Never too soon._

She passed Lee on her way to the hangar. His hand on her wrist stopped her. She turned. Kreutzer was far already.

"I'll fix it. I promise."

His eyes were clear, his jaw tight. His hold almost hurt.

"I believe you."

He released her, preceded her on deck.

_I believe you._

"Sir, Admiral Adama asked me to give you this before I left."

Athena had barely climbed out of her bird when she handed Apollo a white, square envelope. As soon as he took it she stepped back, as if the bare contact could burn her. Alia looked for her eyes, but could not meet them. She kept them low.

_She knows what's inside it. And she doesn't like it._

She turned to Lee, but he hadn't opened the message yet. He looked, a puzzled, angry expression on his face, at the seals on its back.

"What does that mean?"

He raised his eyes.

_Always, when you were angry, they would turn green._

"The seals of the commander and the president. Whatever order's in here, it's an official one. And if they wrote it down this quick, they don't feel like discussing it."

He stared at the envelope one moment more, as if bracing himself, then tore it open. His eyes flicked through the official writing, then he lowered the hand holding the paper. For one short moment Alia thought he was about to crumple it, but he did not. Calmly, he turned to Athena.

"Back in the cockpit, pilot. You'll fly me over to _Galactica._"

"I can't, sir. The admiral said you had to carry out your orders first."

Lee held Athena's eyes for one long moment before she lowered them.

"I can't," she repeated, and Alia felt a chill going down her back.

"Commander," she said, her voice firm, and Lee handed her the paper.

"It's a death sentence," – his voice flat, a statement – "A warrant to execute immediately, regardless of rank, status or position in the fleet, whatever Cylon agent we discover."

_There are just things that take eternities to get through._

Her fingers, numb, took the sheet. It looked so plain, bad quality paper headed by the symbol of the colonies. The signatures at the foot of the text were unmistakeable.

_You shouldn't have done this, aunt._

"We'll call _Galactica. _They'll understand."

Lee's eyes were distant, like steel.

"They won't. You don't know how it's been of late. Baltar to be tried for treason…the president wanted to flush him out of a launch tube without trial. And the collaborators, after New Caprica. Human beings judged and executed by a borderline illegal Circle of six. Only six, and no witnesses. There will be no mercy for Cylons. Not now."

"Just as you wished for." Athena's voice had a edge to it as cutting as a blade. Her eyes, now raised, were bold, defying. Alia's vision went red.

"She can stay," she said, slowly, "She can stay. 'A commissioned colonial officer'. She eats our food, flies our birds. The old man likes her, she's married to Helo, so she gets to stay. Connor has brought this fleet here all this way. I won't let him be flushed out of an airlock."

Lee shook his head.

"Times were different when she came. She's proven her loyalty over and over. They won't listen – "

"I WON'T ABANDON MY BEST MAN!"

_Skin, metal, wires, blood…_

The bulkheads were out of focus as Alia turned and walked away, up the stairs to the CIC.

_They will listen. They have to._

Thinking firmly, refusing to admit possibilities other than what she had already decided upon.

_He could be the Cylon king, it doesn't matter. I'm Fortune's fool. And I just don't care._

He didn't know. His hurt face, his appeal – he didn't know.

_Lee__ said that some were sleepers. He's sleeping still. He will be sleeping forever. He's not a Cylon. Not in his heart, anyway._

Twenty-four hours before she would have sworn machines don't have hearts: just synthetic muscles pumping artificial blood. Now she stormed her bridge and got hold of the wireless.

"Put me through, Mr Noral. _Galactica."_

"Aye-aye, sir."

_I don't care. He can stay in the brig. I'll come to term with this – forgive him, eventually. But they can't just flush him out of the godsdamn tube._

"_Galactica. _Gaeta speaking."

"Here Nemesis. Give me the admiral, Felix."

The silence filled the receiver.

"Gaeta?"

"I have orders to ask you first if you – "

"You just give me the admiral, lieutenant!"

"By your command."

_Please, old man. Be reasonable._

"Here the admiral. Nemesis, you had my orders. Did you carry them out?"

"No. I can't – the tactical officer, Lieutenant Connor. He's my best man. He brought us here. He'll be faithful, I guarantee for him – just like Athena. He won't betray us. He hasn't, thus far. Why should he do that now?"

"You have your orders."

"Sir – "

"Captain Roslin, you will remember the oath you swore. You will carry out your orders, or be arrested and tried for mutiny. Is that clear?"

"I want to speak with the president."

"The president herself advised this line of conduct. I expect a full report in twenty minutes – and the order to be carried out."

"Sir – "

"That will be all, Captain Roslin."

He hung up.

_Is there anything left of sanity in the world?_

On the threshold of the CIC, Lee was looking at her.

"I'll arrange a detail. He will have a firing squad. Like a soldier."

"You said you would fix this."

"There are things that can't be fixed."

She did not say a thing as she passed him and headed for the brig. The passageways were empty, silent; not a sound in between the metal bulkheads.

_As if you could understand, Helenia. As if you could mourn._

The two marines on the door sprang to attention – she ignored them. Inside, Hotdog leaning against a wall, his expression uneasy.

"Out."

He obeyed, his face blank.

Connor did not sit on the bunk, nor leant on the wall. He stood in the centre of the cell, as if waiting for the admiral in person to come. When the door closed behind Hotdog, she tried to speak, but the words stuck to the inside of her throat. He understood.

"It's death then, is it?"

She nodded.

_I wish I could switch off my heart, now._

Connor laughed.

"I guess there'll be no appeal."

"I tried…"

"I'm sure of that." He walked around the cell, then stopped abruptly. His eyes on her were sharp, naked, as if they could look inside her and past. "I'm sorry for this, captain."

"Don't even say that."

"You know, this last hour I had…I tried, tried to remember. Tried to sort it out. I can't. I look back, and all I can see is my life. A human one. From childhood up to this morning, when I woke up smiling because we were no longer alone in outer space." His eternal grin played around the corners of his mouth. "It's ironic, is it? No revelation. No epiphany. I'm dying – presuming I'm a Cylon, because they're quite sure of it, but not knowing it really. They keep saying most of what I remember is fake. A whole life I did not live."

_I can't shatter now. I must stay whole. _

"My first day at school – the first time I touched a woman. Fake, all of it. Artificial. I suffered when the colonies were attacked. I lost friends there. I vowed revenge. All to discover, now, that I've been the enemy all along."

"You're not the enemy!" – the words erupted, she could not hold them back – "You're not the enemy. You're my best officer, my best friend, I owe you my life, and I can't, I won't – " She grasped the bars of the cell, feeling her pain coagulate behind her eyes, tears blurring her vision.

_Tell me there is a way out._

"I love you, Alia," he said quietly, as if it was nothing of importance, "Like the sister I never had, like the friend I always wanted. I saved your life – I would have given mine for yours. You will obey your orders, because I won't let you into trouble on my behalf. If you don't do this, Major Adama will do it and cover for you. He won't let you down."

"He promised he –"

"It's nobody's fault but mine. If I had known my mission, my true nature, perhaps I could have chosen and proven what side I was on. But it's far too late."

"Leonard…"

Steps down the hallway, approaching.

"Remember Caprica. Don't give it all up because of me. You can be happy now. Take it."

"I –"

Quickly, before they came in, he took her fingers, kissed them.

"Fare thee well, Nemesis."

They entered. With one step Connor was away from her, far and proud. Lee was surrounded by marines, and all of them carried a gun.

_There won't be a day when I can look at you and not remember this, Major Adama._

"Lieutenant Connor –"

"Spare me the bureaucracy, sir. Let's get this over quickly."

Lee put down the official paper, nodded to a marine. He opened the door of the cell, but the prisoner refused the cuffs.

"I'll walk there. You have my word."

"Let's go then."

Lee's eyes over her – as if he wished for her to go.

_I won't let him go alone._

She walked side by side with Connor, every step from the brig to the launching bay. Around them, the marines tilted their weapons nervously – only one hour before, they had taken orders from this very man. Now, he was not even a man anymore.

"I just hope," Leonard's voice was barely a whisper beside her, "There is no Resurrection ship around. If I could not be born like a human being, I wish I could at least die like one."

Alia looked at him.

"If you could download – "

"I don't want to. If I had had a choice, I would have chosen to live like a soldier. I could not. But I can choose to share the death of mankind, if such a thing is possible for a machine like me."

"Leo…"

"Sir, I don't think this is the place." He was smiling, again. And the launching tube was in front of them.

_Too soon…_

Everything after that happened so quickly Alia would retain of it confused memories, flashes and images to be played over and over without the ability of making sense of them. She was separated from Connor, and he was led by Lee himself to the centre of the tube. He refused the blindfold – he stood, without cuffs, proudly as if he had been about to be decorated. At some point as the detail arranged itself Leera appeared at her side.

"I was in the sickbay," she said, quietly, "Starbuck knocked me down badly. When they told me…"

Alia could not look at her, could not look at the tears she knew she would find in her eyes. Leonard, too, had seen her. From his position in the tube, he smiled.

"Always the same…"

_Don't cry. It's no use now. Don't cry. _

The detail was ready. Lee stood behind them, ready to give the order.

"It was Apollo who sent for me…"

"Soldiers, at my command – "

"No!" the word came out before she knew she wanted to say it, and they all turned to her, puzzled, but she went on, "At my command."

_This, at least, I can do._

Leonard looked at her, his face now serious. He nodded. He understood.

"Thank you, captain."

_Your__ last words._

She could not look at him, not as she placed herself beside the last soldier, a young man, _Marquez, I believe, _not looking at Lee, either, _there won't be a day, _looking, really, nowhere, just thinking, thinking of outer space, _not even a grave my friend, not even a grave, _and she gave the first order, and then the second, and it was not real, _I am not here, a nightmare all of it, and I'll awake and Galactica will be debris back on the Colonies, and Cylons won't look like us, won't feel like us, won't be a part of us to suffer and bleed for. _But her words, her orders, were clear.

"Point!"

Guns lowered, shiny tricks.

"Aim!"

From barrel to heart, an invisible line.

"Fire!"

The one hesitation before the bullets leave.

_You're not looking at me, either. You're just beyond._

She did not stay to see the body fall. She turned, and heard the sound, the bulkheads closing before the void, and a voice, someone calling, perhaps Leera, perhaps Lee, but she wasn't there already, _no longer, just beyond, _without running, just ignoring. Till the silence of her ship swallowed her whole.


End file.
